Dark Days
by mightyspat
Summary: Centering on the fallout during and after The Gift (BTVS S5 Finale). Resurrection is never free and Whistler has a plan to collect. A dark and elaborate Buffy's real father tale meandering its way towards the SGC. Buffy/Dawn-centric.
1. Chapter 1 - Prologue

**DARK DAYS**

 **BTVS with minor SG-1 Crossover**

 **Timeline:**  
Buffy The Vampire Slayer (BTVS): End Season 5.  
Stargate SG-1: Early Season 3

 **Rating:** Let's go with R leaning towards NC-17 in places.

 **Warnings:** Language, Violence, Torture, Sex, Consensual Underage, Angst, Whatever else might offend you potentially included. You've been warned. If you're looking for a happily ever after story … move on.

 **Insert Disclaimer Here:** I own nothing, I make no money from this. The source materials for this work of fiction belong to the creators of Buffy The Vampire Slayer and Stargate SG-1. If you recognize terms, ideas, characters, ect. from another work of fanfiction, it's likely the other author is the rightful owner. Please consider it the highest form of compliment if you see any of your ideas re-used. If you're less than flattered let me know and I'll remove the conflicting material.

***First Ever Story. Constructive criticism is welcomed, but please try to be at least helpful.***

 **BETA's Wanted:** I've got hundreds of thousands of words written in this and the following books I plan (motivation willing) and I'm in the process of reviewing, learning, ect.

Beta's can contact me with suggestions, corrections, etc. There's links to the chapters hosted on google docs on the Twisting - version of this story. Knock yourself out.

 **DARK DAYS**

 **Chapter 1 – Preface**

Sir Isaac Newton Third Law states that for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.

The Multiverse Theory states - in one fashion or another - that every choice or action creates another parallel universe where the opposite choice was made. Choice not limited to humans or even living organisms. Antimatter and matter existing in perfectly balanced harmony, only chance and fate determining when they hold their distance at an uneasy truce or when they collide or separate creating everything or nothingness. All choices in one manor or another, all equally balanced. An infinite number of variables for an infinite number of equations all resulting in an infinite number of simple binary answers. 1 or 0, yes or no, left or right. Each choice diverging in the opposite direction from the other, the results of both choices now existing in a infinite tangled web of new universes being created in a span of time so short as to be un-quantifiable by the human brain.

So many choices with so many results, **where could one simple wish lead?**

 **APRIL 2001**

 **ONE MONTH AFTER JOYCE'S DEATH**

 **Sunnydale, California – 1630 Revello Drive**

Dawn sat motionless, comforted by the shade of a rustling maple tree in the backyard she called her own. The glare at the yellowed envelope clutched tightly in her hand had little effect. The rumpeled envelope unchanged, still showing the wear and tear of crossing countless kilometers of land, air, and sea only to make the trip once more upon its return. She could only wish the salty path of tears on her cheeks could wash away the ink of rejection.

 _RETURN TO SENDER_

 _LETTER NOT ACCEPTED BY RECIPIENT_

"Dawnie?"

Dawn stared unrelenting at the letter. Unwilling to acknowledge the near silent approach of her elder sister.

"Dawnie, what's wrong?" Buffy asked softly.

"I hate him! I hate everything about him, he doesn't want me!" Dawn yelled before her tirad ended in a sad whimper. "And why would he, I'm not even real" She threw the envelope to the ground.

Buffy sighed, watching as the paper tumbled a laughably short distance before picking it up, now even more soiled and worn. The bold writing that was unmistakably her fathers still easy to read. She sighed.

 _B_ _astard_

Buffy slumped down next to her sister and wrapped an arm around the sobbing girl. Taking care to not to use the slightest Slayer strength on her most cherished person. She was angry, angry that a man that had been all but replaced in their lives could still cause such pain in the eyes of her sister. Extreme emotion had a tendency to make her lose control of the delicate balance between normal strength, and the bone crushing potential within her own small limbs.

Dawn instinctively flinched at the touch, the reaction of a deep seated need to never accept the charity of her older sister as it called to her to get to her feet and run. To escape. Predictably, she failed. Her head being pulled gently against its will to the soft warmth of a nearby chest ready to absorb her tears. The end result was all but certain before her attempt had even begun, resistance was futile against those powerful arms, but nonetheless she bucked and thrashed in protest.

Buffy ignored her sisters squirming resistance, it was all for show. Years of being kicked in the face by monsters made the impacts from a human teenager less than a mere annoyance. Taking intent care not to hold too tightly onto the precious gift of life she had been charged to protect she slowly reigned her in. A single slip, one second of inattentiveness, and she could crush her sister's slender bones. A hug meant in loving care could be a lethal death blow if she sneezed at just the wrong time. She'd learned over the years, managed to keep anyone she cared for from permanent damage.

Much to a mixture of her relief and horror, Dawn was finally maturing into the body of a young woman. Someone who could take the accidental slip or two of a hug, just a bit to tight. There wasn't a mom anymore for her little sister to run to. She was it, she was the mom now. The only thing standing between her sweet little Dawnie and the harsh reality of the world around them.

 _S_ _weet_ _…_ _may be an exaggeration._

She used a few gentle fingers to pull the ruffled strands of hair from her sister's face tucking it neatly behind her ear.

 _So smooth and silky as always, so pretty._

Buffy spoke softly as she slowly stroked and untangled Dawns soft dark hair. "If your not real how can I touch you? How can I hold you? How can I smell the salt in your tears?"

"I hate him!" Dawn replied sharply finally giving up the useless struggle to escape the inescapable grasp of the slayer.

Buffy didn't bother with an attempt to defend her absent father. "I know Dawnie, I know" She spoke as soothingly as she could.

A slight tingle caused her to tense in an instant, perking up her head as she opened her senses focusing in the search for any threat. Her muscle reacted they only way they knew how, coiling into tight springs ready to power their way into action at any second. Each fiber tightening, stretching, waiting for the commands that could come at any time.

"Buffy?" Dawn asked feeling her sisters soft embrace suddenly turn to steel. "Buffy what is it?"

Buffy paused, the feeling of a nearby demon dissipated just as soon as it occured. "Nothing Dawnie, I just … thought I felt something. Don't worry about it. … … … The letter, you wanted to make sure he remembered you, right?"

Dawn nodded between whimpering sobs "I just thought if I had something new, something written down. I'd have proof you know."

Buffy sighed as she tried to think of the many ways she could kill her own father using nothing but her bare hands. "I get it, I scribbled down notes to myself when … when I …"

"When you were there?" Dawn finished, not missing the shiver that went through her sister-pillow.

" … I wrote down 'vampires are real' anywhere I knew they wouldn't find it. I … " Buffy trailed off

"It's okay, you don't need to talk about it" Dawn replied as she shifted her head slightly letting it rest gently on her sisters soft breasts.

Buffy didn't move to wipe the tears from her own face knowing the movement would be obvious to Dawn. Couldn't show weakness, couldn't show fear. She was the slayer, the line in the sand that protected her sister, let her have some small measure of peace and safety. Gently pulling the envelope up to rest on her knee, writing a few sloppy scribbles with a pen before handing it back to Dawn.

Dawn looked at the envelope breaking a slight smile as she read the words

 _RETURN TO SENDER_

 _LETTER NOT ACCEPTED BY RECIPIENT_

 _Because he's a jackass who can't be bothered_

 _to care for his own daughter. But her_

 _sister will always love lil_ _pumpkin belly._

 _N_ _o matter where she came from._

 _With Love Always,_

 _Buffy Anne Summers_

"Buffy, ever wonder what it would be like if … if we had a different dad?" Dawn asked sheepishly

Buffy tensed. "Uhh … yeah … I've thought about it." Buffy replied with a forced smile "But mom, I wouldn't have traded for anything in the world."

"Me neither, but … but I do, I wish we had a different dad" Dawn explained.

."I know." Buffy replied, tensing again "I think we better get you inside, spidey sense is acting up."

"It's daytime"

"Evil doesn't sleep Dawn"

"It's … daytime"

"Fine, evil doesn't care. Happy?"

In another yard nearby, a lonely figure stood in the bright light of temperate winter day of Southern California. The owner of the property long dead, another victim of the second highest cause of death in the 'peaceful' town of Sunnydale, the hazard that was the barbecue fork.

The privacy fence surrounding the Summers property offered the cover necessary to get within earshot. Highly attuned senses of the demon made the thirty some meters to her target un-notable. She saw the slayer tense momentarily, quickly suppressing her own aura to remain hidden. She wasn't here for a fight, and any action against the slayer could have dire consequences for any number of reasons.

No, she was here for the other young woman clutched in the slayers arms. The pain and anguish of another child scorned had drawn her focus. Pierced the very fabric of the universe with its intensity. She'd never felt such a powerful summons before, but Dawn Summers wasn't exactly your normal human child. The power radiating off the girl was intoxicating, the thick winding spells and wisps of green power that radiated around her giving no illusion of normalcy to her eye. She was uncertain of what the young 'human' was, but her power was drowning out even that of the slayer nearby. No, she had no intention of meeting the slayer, D'hoffryn had been adamant, clear in his orders. She shuddered at the thought of what the potential punishment could be for violating such a clear direction.

She gave a slight gasp when she heard the magic words that all vengeance demons needed to unlock their nearly limitless powers. To grant a wish to something of such power, one posing as the sister of the slayer. A thought crossed her mind as she wondered just how those spells would react. She could see them, each one wafting around her head like wisps of smoke, uncertain which direction they desired to drift. "Oh this is going to be so exciting." Halfrek took a deep breath, concentrating before she spoke so softly that even the nearby slayer couldn't hear "Wish … Granted"

 **February 28th, 1981 – 2220 Hours (10:20 P.M.)**

 **PAST - 9 DAYS AFTER BUFFY'S BIRTH**

 **Los Angeles, California – Hanson Orphanage**

The cloudy night sky was lit in a brilliant flash of distant lightning as rain threatened to cut through the damp air of a cold winter night. The furious wind of the impending storm somehow fitting as a man triggered the buzzer summoning whomever was in charge this night.

Thunder rolled, masking the cry of a baby too small to protest in any other way. The baby carrier resting on the ground quickly rocked in fruitless attempt to quell the infants wails. The man all but hopeless at the subtle touch needed to sooth such a thing, to put the baby girl at ease at the absence of her mother.

He pressed the buzzer once more, and again. Alternating between short beats and a long pulse certain to annoy anyone into action. The door opened as an aged man answered the call. Both men's eyes darting down to the swaddled package causing such a fuss this night.

An envelope was passed between them as a Mr. 'Smith' recited the details he'd been given to pass along. The well muscled man hardly noticing the weight when he lifted the carrier from the ground, moving it to the feet of the other. Before questions could be asked a curt nod was given and Mr. Smith walked into the stormy night. The still crying infant left behind at the threshold. The wheels of fate were set in motion, drops of rain beginning to fall as the infant was placed on the path to becoming Buffy Summers.

 **A/N:** And we're off! A few descriptions below for any struggling with the format. This story will feature two timelines. One centered on Dawn, the other on Buffy. Pay attention to the headings of each section. Events will occur chronologically within the timelines.

deletes the marker I used for a significant change in setting, so there isn't one. Just a bold heading.

* * * Minor change in setting or a notable shift in character.

 _Italic Text – Notable Thoughts, Dreams, Memories, Read Text, or Communications where the other is elsewhere. I assume which of these it is will be obvious._

"Dialogue"

'Quotation'

… … … Silence in the dialogue. A placeholder to help keep things easy to track.

 **Bold Text –** Emphasis on the word by the speaker, or character.


	2. Chapter 2 - The Coming Of Dawn

**Chapter 2 - The Coming of Dawn**

 **June 2** **nd** **, 2001**

 **SUNRISE**

 **Sunnydale, California – Glory's Tower**

"Let the blood … flow … free." Doc exclaimed, pulling the knife away from Dawn's marred body. Crimson fluid quickly rushing through it's new found exits, dripping from the platform and into the air below. Finally, finally the magnificent Glorificus could return home, to the Goddess she was meant to be. Finally he would be able to escape from the shadows he was forced to live in on this pitiful world, to stand at the right hand of his God.

"Dawn!".

Doc whirled around at the voice, raising an eyebrow at the young woman approaching. The Key's guardian, her supposed sister, The Slayer.

"Buffy!" Dawn shouted in a panicked plea.

Doc grinned raising the knife ready to fight off the Slayer. "This should be interesting."

There was no pause, no hesitation, Buffy striding towards the only thing between her and her sister, resolute, catching the thrust of his knife with an iron grip. With a burst of force and a furious shove her adversary had lost the battle of balance. On this narrow platform, her small stature coming in handy for once in her life. A low center of gravity grounding her push. Under better circumstance, this was a prime moment for anything witty. Swallowing the joke forming in the front of her mind while watching as the … thing fell at ever increasing speeds into gravity's embrace.

She turned away, towards her wide eyed sister. "I'm here" She used every ounce of uneasy tenderness available in a bid to calm her sister.

Dawn winced "Buffy, it hurts" The blood continuing to stream from her body, each laceration long and deep.

"I've got you. Come here. You're gonna be okay." Buffy soothed.

Neither noticed the few drops of Dawn's blood slowly dripping from the platform. Each to caught up in the emotion of their reunion as blood fell silently through the air until meeting an invisible resistance, halting it's fall. Where blood once hung, a speck of light appeared, swiftly growing from its source.

Buffy felt the air sizzle with power, refusing to look back as she lead her limping sister across the platform and back towards the main structure of the tower.

Without warning her sister wrestled an arm free of her gentle grasp, quickly turning with eyes of defiance at the worst possible time.

"Go!" Buffy ordered, watching as her sisters eyes turned from defiance, to sadness, making the final, painful leap to acceptance.

"Buffy … It's started!" She pointed to the ball of dreaded light forming below. The gateway that could only be sealed by her death.

Whipping around to follow her sister's finger, Buffy felt her stomach drop to her feet, understanding in that instant what it meant. Gasping as she saw the portal growing into existence. Bolts of lightning splitting the air, the crack of thunder joining the buzz of dark magic filling her ears.

"I'm sorry." Dawn muttered, tears rolling down her cheeks as her eyes met the worried gaze of her older sister.

Buffy forced a thin smile. "It doesn't matter." She knew what was coming, what it meant. She wouldn't kill her own sister, couldn't, shouldn't have to. A kinder fate to let the world end. To meet death with Dawn's hand in her own rather than survive, knowing the price was her little sisters life.

In a moment of courage Dawn took a heavy breath. She'd watched her sister save the world time and time again. Just this once, this one time, it was her who held the Key, the blood, everything needed to save the world. In a dash she streaked forwards, darting around the edge of her sister towards the end that had to come for the world to live. She didn't want to die, but this is what was needed, the one thing she could do.

"What are you doing?" Buffy demanded, snapping up her sisters arm a bit too harshly.

"I have to jump! The energy."

"It'll kill you!"

Dawn's eyes drifted to the grated metal floor "I know … I know about the ritual."

… … …

"I have to stop it."

Buffy's eyes narrowed "No"

"I have to! Look … look at what's happening!"

The tower shook beneath them, Dawn gripping anything nearby to keep her balance. Buffy, keeping a calm composure, nimbly swayed like a cat. The screeching roar of creatures from hell flooding their ears. Each emerging from the portal, eager to explore this new world. Each illuminated by ominous glow of the sphere which would end all life on Earth..

"Buffy, you have to let me go! Blood starts it, and until the blood stops flowing, it'll never stop." Dawn paused finally able to meet her sisters eyes. The normally calm glare of seasoned green eyes etched with a moment of uncertainty. "You know you have to let me. It has to have the blood."

A corner of Buffy's mind screamed. A piece of information finally clicking into place.

 _Blood!_

Memories of the past months formed, sharpened, finally clarifying into realization.

 _Cause it's always got to be blood!_

 _It's Summers blood. It's just like mine._

 _She's me. The monks made her out of me._

 _Death is your gift_

Buffy's frown slowly etched into a grim smile. Her eyes turning to view the portal once more. The sun was rising in the distance, the sky flooding with a mosaic of colors.

There was another option. An option that would spare the most precious thing she had in this life. Her smile widened.

 _This was good_

 _T_ _his was right_

 _T_ _his was what she was meant for._

A perfect end for a life that had become too much to bear. She turned, facing her sister one last time. This is what it was all for, what it all meant, this was her purpose. She knew she'd never grow old, something she'd come to terms with long ago. Never have children, never have grandchildren, never experience so many of the wonderful things life had to offer.

But, her sister could.

One final gift to the world, one to ensure a future for Dawn. She took in the sight of Dawn's features, letting the feeling of peace descended for the first time since that fateful day so many years ago. No more fighting, no more suffering, no more pain. Buffy brought herself to meet Dawn's wet eyes one last time.

 _The End … finally,_ _it's_ _here._

Her sister must have realized the thoughts that were going through her mind. Dawn's face showing just how horrified she was. "Buffy … No!"

"Dawnie, I have to."

"No!"

"Listen to me. Please, there's not a lot of time, listen." Buffy cooed, stroking her sisters beautiful silky hair for the last time.

With her final words to her sister she kissed Dawn's forehead as lovingly as she could manage. Gently caressing her sisters face with a hand, brushing away tears one last time. This was it. The day they both knew had been coming. Death … her death. No way to run, no way to hide. Just pushing it off for another day the best she could manage. Every slayer came with an expiration date, and hers was long past. To think she could die like this, in a final act to save everything that she held dear. To be able to give her sister the farewell she deserved instead of the inevitable alternative, of not returning home one fateful night. It was a picturesque moment she could embrace. She was ready, she'd been ready for years.

 _Is today the day I die?_

 _Yes._

 _Y_ _es it is._

Without a word she turned, running down the platform with a smile etched across her lips. One final, simple, mission so her sister could live. The fall was exhilarating as she dove off the end into the portal of death below. When the pain arrived, it was overwhelming, all encompassing. Every cell in her body instantly on fire with a righteous pain the second she hit the light. Her body shuddered and wracked without command, jolts of fire bursting through her being. Even with the horror of sensation flooding her mind, she couldn't help but hold her a smile, serene as her vision faded into the blackness. One last thought running through her mind.

 _This is the last pain I'll ever feel._

Dawn remained as stoic as circumstance would allow, still in wide eyed disbelief at the top of the tower. Watching, frozen, as her sister dove out of sight. The shock momentarily suppressing reality as she took in the sight.

 _Only Buffy could make dying look so graceful._

The thought brought her a small moment of pride as she ran through Buffy's final loving words. Words more sincere and honest than she'd heard in a long time. In that final moment, her sister, not the slayer, truly emerged from behind all the walls and masks Buffy had built over the punishing years. The woman she'd always looked up to in her truest form smiling back with unquestioning love in her eyes.

 _'Dawn, listen to me. Listen. I love you. I will_ _ **Always**_ _love you. But this is the work that I have to do. Tell Giles ... tell Giles I figured it out. And, and that, that I'm okay. Give my love to my friends. You have to take care of them now. You have to take care of each other. You have to be strong. Dawn, the hardest thing in this world ... is to live in it. Be brave. Live. For me.'_

Dawn stood motionless atop the tower as her sisters form slipped away in her final act of bravery. A sacrifice proving without refute that Buffy truly loved her above all else, above even her own life.

The crackling buzz of energy sharply intensified before surging inward on itself into nothingness. Dawn let out a breath, everyone was safe.

Buffy had saved the world once again.

A sickening 'thud' echoed into her ears as reality landed home. A noise that could have only been one horrifying thing. The sound of her sisters body slamming into the ground reminding her that not everyone had been safe in that moment of serenity.

 _B_ _uffy_ _!_

Her eyes clenched shut, her face contorting as tears once more erupted from her eyes. As her knees crashed into the sharp metal grating of the platform, she never realized the cry filling the air was her own.

 _Why her? Why did she have to die?_ _Why did the_ _world have to be so cruel?_

Her soul ripped in half as she felt a burning rage at the unfairness of it all. A pain unlike any she'd ever experienced before flooding through her body, stabbing, like a thousand needles begging to be set free.

The metal grate cut into her cheek as she collapsed into it. Letting out sobs of inconsolable pain amongst her solitude atop this tower she despised. She reached out with her hands, gripping the sides of the narrow walkway pulling with her might, but getting nowhere. Instead letting the steel bite into the soft flesh of her hands. She wanted to tear down every inch this tower piece by piece. Rip apart every scrap of steel that had taken her sister from her so unfairly. She wanted revenge on this cold reminder still bearing her weight.

She pulled harder on the grate, embracing the small spark of darkness within. Her face grinding into the metal, fresh pain powering her screams pushing her mind into a haze of rage.

 _Are you ready to be strong?_

The question barley registered in her thoughts, too lost in the moment to respond to the dark voice growling within. Like a wave crashing through her body the darkness found a home. She felt it, shuddering as something moved into her, something evil, foreign … something … familiar. With another anguished scream, blood poured from her hands as the metal grate and supports below began to buckle and groan, the steel straining under her fury.

She took in a gasp of air, shocked, her hands closing the gap towards one another. The movement wholly unexpected. Feeling, sensing more than understanding, she knew she had to move. Quickly rising to her bloodied knees and rolling backwards like a finely practiced gymnast. Making it back into the main portion of the tower, narrowly avoiding the impending collapse of the now damaged portion of the walkway.

Gracefully rising to her feet she took only a second to brush aside the budding questions. Without thought she lashed out in anger, punching the nearest steel column that she could find with all her strength. In the back of her mind she knew the stupidity of it, bracing herself for the pain that was sure to result. She didn't care, she wanted pain, needed it. An outlet for the darkness that filling her every corner.

It didn't come.

The steel rang like a bell, but it didn't hurt, not like it should have. Screaming again and again she followed through with punch after punch. Prepared for the crunch of the brittle bones in her hands.

She closed her eyes at the moment of each impact, letting out another scream of hate directed at the object which had helped take her sister. her lips curled into a manic grin at the futility of it all. Dawn could tell each time she hit the column she did so with more and more strength, but still nothing happened.

Throwing everything she had at it in one final effort Dawn was stunned by a loud snap. But instead of bone, it was the metal that gave way. The thick steel yielding beneath her rage. As it parted away from her first she lost balance, stumbling off the edge of the tower. Eyes instantly shooting open, her breath hitching in panic as she felt herself begin to fall. Reaching out instinctively to grab the first piece of anything she swung herself gracefully back onto the platform. Landing smoothly on the balls of her feet, now one level lower than she had started. Her mouth dropped open, eyes widening even more, to the point of pain. Her mind racing to process what had just happened.

"What the?" Dawn looked down at her bloodstained hands. Her heart pounded in her ears while she caught her breath from the fright of the near fatal fall. Her knuckles were bloodied, and they hurt, but not as much as expected. She could almost see the cuts healing. Feel the itch as skin she'd torn on the rusted walkway start to knit itself back together.

She remembered the feeling of contact, of power flowing through her. The almost plastic feel of steel yielding under her strength.

Dawn's eyes settled on a similar column nearby, smiling at the fading throb as she lashed out. Punching it just the same as she had before but keeping her eyes open this time. She watched as her punch hit home, watched the support buckle under the force. Her smile widened in her rage, giving in to the darkness that had made her its new home. She lashed out at everything she saw, punching and kicking anything in range just for the chaos of it. Just to defile that which had robbed something from her.

"Dawn!" Giles yelled breathlessly, his legs having finally reached the pinnacle of the tower where Dawn was standing. "What are you … " He was stunned into silence, watching as Dawn landed another punch onto the mangled metal in front of her. Her sharp breaths the only pauses in her screams. He gasp when he saw the metal buckle under the force of her bloodied fist.

"Dawn what …?" Giles couldn't finish his sentence, his voice drowned out by the sound of Dawn setting loose her fury against a new unsuspecting column, one appearing completely pointless in the maze that was the structures frame. Using both fists in rapid succession she hammered away.

"Lil' Bit? Where the bleeding hell…?" Spike yelled, stopping as he tracked the Watcher's eyes to the furious screaming girl pounding away with bloodied fists.

"Dawn, stop!" Spike yelled, running up and trying to stop her rampage. He didn't expect her to turn so quickly. Unprepared for the elbow blow came out of nowhere, dislocating his jaw when she ripping her hand out of his grip. The pain was lost in the multitude of others. Just one more in a long list of bruises and broken bones he'd already sustained as he snapped his jaw back into place with a grunt.

He watched as Dawn pulled back her fist once more reading another strike, keeping it balled into a tight fist.

 _Bloody hell, she's just as strong as Buffy_

He watched as the hopelessly telegraphed punch began rocketing towards his face. Quickly shifting to the side, Spike let her momentum carry her forwards. Letting him trap her arms, wrapping the furious girl up in an improvised bear hug.

"Watcher! What the hell is this?" Spike demanded as he looked up at Giles, covering his mouth with one hand as he looked on in shock.

"It … it can't be!"

Dawn, frustrated by being trapped in Spike's arms let out another blood curdling scream of frustration, struggling against the vampire's imprisoning hold.

"Dawn, calm down dammit!" Spike yelled "Giles, She… She's got a bleeding Slayer's strength!"

"Giles where's Dawn, oh … where's Buffy?" Xander yelled as he reached the level of the tower they were on, easily spotting Dawn struggling in Spike's arms.

Dawn let out another scream, using years of practice to wiggle free from her cage turning the instant she was free with a wild punch aimed at Spike's face.

"Dawn, stop!" Spike yelled, his head darting from side to side to avoid the storm of angry little fists. Grunting when one finally connected to his chest knocking him back.

"Dawn, where's Buffy?" Giles yelled, trying to get the hysterical child to stop destroying everything around her.

The words caused the crazed brunette to take pause. Letting out a murderous chuckle as she slowly turned her icy blue eyes towards the voice. "Buffy's dead"

Her words passed like the eye of a hurricane, a cold statement before the calm was gone. She screamed again, letting her rage power another wild slew of punches aimed towards Spike's face landing a few home as he ducked and dodged the rest.

"Dawn! Damn it Niblet, just stop a minute!" Spike repeated, only to be ignored, chasing him wildly around the platform like a crazed bull. Finally, pushed towards the edge of the platform, his options removed, he drove a well aimed fist into the underside of the girls chin. The girl he was charged to protect.

Without a sound she crumpled in an unconscious heap.

"Watcher, what … What the hell was that? Dawn … Dawn's a … How the bleeding hell is Dawn a Slayer all of a sudden!" Spike asked sharply.

"Dawn's a what now?" Xander yelled out.

Within seconds the trio of men had surrounded the unconscious form, each fighting to prove their caring over the rest.

"Are you sure?" Giles asked meeting spikes gaze.

"Are you kidding me? She's a bloody Slayer you pillock! " Spike explained.

"No. It's not … There's no way. The Slayer line already passed Buffy. And the only way you get a new one is if … " Giles froze as understanding came. Dawn's screams finally making sense.

"No" Giles gasp, his eyes moving to Spike praying for another explanation.

Spike's head fell. His eyes resting on the slight form at his feet.

"No what?" Xander asked looking confused. "What?"

… … …

The girlish screams from the base of the tower broke the silence. Spike hefting an unconscious Dawn into his arms, subtly brushing away tears in the process.

Tears flowed unopposed as each Scoobie stared at Buffy's motionless corpse. Each one processing silently in their own stunned disbelief. In their minds, they expected her to somehow wake up. To just shrug off the damage to her body with a quip as she had every time before. Buffy always survived, always found that little loophole. Always powered through no matter how bad the injury. For years they'd watched as wave after wave of evil crash against their leader. Each one finally breaking against the unstoppable wall of light that was Buffy Summers. Now, each was coming to grips with the same inescapable conclusion.

 _Buffy wasn't coming back._

Dawn's eyes slowly fluttered open, meeting Spike's sadly returning the stare only briefly before closing hers once more. She couldn't bear the pain she saw, she had enough pain. For a moment she let herself dream, let her body stay limp and unmoving in the strong arms supporting her. If she ignored the scent of cigarettes, the cold grip of his arms, if she tuned everything out she could almost pretend it was Buffy who was keeping her safe. Carrying her home after she sprained her ankle. Rocking her to sleep after their mother died. Running with her cradled in her arms keeping her safe from Glory, the one responsible for setting all of this in motion.

The moment of self delusion made reality all the worse. Reality crashing into her chest like a brick dropped from space making the pain in her jaw irrelevant. Her eyes slid open once more. Even beaten and bruised to within an inch of his unlife, Spikes eyes had never lost that glow. That little gleam of mischief that made Spike, Spike. The little bead of liquid sorrow running down his cheek and the vacant look on his face said everything

 _I'm so sorry_

"We need to leave" Willow muttered breaking the silence.

Xander: "We can't leave her here, not like this!"

"W...We should m...move her" Tara stuttered "Mr. Giles c...can you carry her?"

"Yes, I … … … yes" Giles replied, walking closer to the rubble pile serving as Buffy's shrine of sacrifice "Xander"

Xander: "Huh? … Oh … Yeah, I'll … I'll help"

"Don't touch her!" Dawn yelled. Wriggling free of Spikes arms at to her feet so quickly she nearly fell on her face from her new disproportionate strength.

The group looked on surprised as the youngest Summers walked towards her sister's body. None able to meet the steely eyes of raw emotion, flinching as as they caught the familiar spark of primal rage Buffy radiated in her purest form.

"Dawn we need to move her, we … we can't explain this" Willow explained taking a step to intercept the young Scoobie.

"Don't!" Dawn shoved Willow to the side before kneeling down near Buffy's motionless body.

Her heart skipped a beat as anger gave way to grief and sorrow. It was the eyes … she couldn't look away from the eyes. Motionless and glassy green orbs starting distantly into nowhere. The eyes of her sister … The Slayer … the woman who had taken every insult, every curse, every hateful word she could throw her way returning only love in return. Guilt quickly smothering everything else.

Buffy had died because of **her.** To save **her.** A Key some monks crammed into a teenage body that her sister died to protect. Now it was Buffy that was just a body. This time she'd given literally everything she had to stop the world from ending. To stop **her** from ending. Using her own life to close the portal that demanded Summers blood.

It was **her** fault … her fault the her sister was now the lifeless body lying at her feet. The best slayer in written history had been killed and for **W** **hat** **?** Because the monks had made Buffy love her. She had killed her own sister.

The slew of bodies she noticed surrounding them finally snapped her out of her frozen grief. Ignoring the tear stained faces of the Scoobies she reached down, carefully scooping up her sisters slender body with her small arms. Lifting the larger woman from the pile of rubble with an effortlessly grace, and resting it gently down on the level ground before crashing to her bloodied knees.

The crowd who'd not been on the tower gasp at the casual display of strength each knew she shouldn't have. Dawn simply ignoring them as she used the sleeve of her dress to clean the dirt, sweat, and grime off her sisters face. Finger combing the messy blonde hair as the pieces of her heart seemed to break into ever smaller pieces. It seemed such a worthless gesture, but even in death, she knew Buffy would want to look her best.

Her silent work complete she leaned over, placing a kiss on her sisters forehead matching the one she'd received only minutes ago. Burying her face into her sisters tattered sweater to muffle the pained screams that followed.

"Giles, what … what's going on?" Willow asked, shocked.

Giles shook his head, hanging it from the sore muscles in the back of his neck unable to meet anyone eyes. "The monks made Dawn from Buffy, Buffy was the slayer, when she … when she died the essence of the slayer tried to transfer down the line. But … the line had already passed so it went to the closest place it could." His eyes never rose from his feat as he muttered just loud enough for everyone to hear.

"Wait, that means … ?" Xander paused, finally understanding what he saw earlier.

Giles Nodded

"We can't leave her here" Dawn softly spoke once more, rising to her feat ignoring the conversation in the background.

"I … agree" Giles said grimly.

Dawn's eyes shifted from her sister to Giles. The man always had a hardness to him. Something only seen in Buffy or Spike. In a random though she realized she'd never seen him cry before. The last time she'd seen a grown man cry was … her body tensed as another thought filtered past the grief. "If they know Buffy died they'll take me away, they'll send me to my father or, or a foster home." Another fit of choked sobs erupted as she realized her life was somehow only going only get worse.

"No, they won't." Giles reassured.

"Umm Giles, not that I'm loving this conversation but they **will** take her" Willow pointed out.

"No, They won't. Buffy … she … she made arrangements." Giles said.

"What?" Xander asked, confused.

"I promised Buffy I'd look after you if she … She made me your godfather shortly after Joyce died. I'll burn in hell before I break that promise." Giles voice turned coldas a ruthless flint of ripper broke through.

No one dared doubt the mans frightening sincerity.

"She … she never said … " Dawn choked.

"She didn't want you to worry you Dawn. But she knew this day would come." Giles explained.

"No … she can't be … she'll come back … she … " Dawn murmured as the simple words shattered reality around her. Slumping back to her knees in a heap, weeping and broken. She knew the remaining Scoobies were starting at her.

 _Fine_

That they were already blaming her for Buffy's death in some corner of their minds.

 _Fine_

Spike walked cautiously to Giles speaking softly in his ear "What are we going to do Watcher? About … ?" He grimaced at the silent glare that was returned "Yeah … that … look don't make me say it just get it done. I'll take care of the bit."

Giles clenched his teeth as Spike turned, sweeping Dawn back into his arms. "Willow, do you have enough energy to... ?" Giles question was cut off by the exhausted eyes of the young witch looking back at him.

"I … I c...can help. I t...think I know what you're thinking. I h...haven't known Buffy as l...long as you guys. It w...will be easier for me to …" Tara spoke gently as the group seemed to recoil at whatever it was they were planning.

Xander smeared tears and dirt across his face with a bloodied fist "She doesn't deserve this. She doesn't deserve **A** **ny** of this."

… … …

"Look, it had to be said." Xander let out a sad sigh "Come on Spike, let's get Dawn to the Hospital. I don't want to watch … this."

Dawn, cradled in Spike's arms, trying to tune out the softly spoken words as each step took them that much further away from this nightmare turned reality. Her newly sensitive ears still picking up more than wanted causing her to look back at her sister praying she'd wake up at the sight. Her efforts were for naught, each time Spike twisting his body to block her view. Finally resigning herself to look back up into his eyes as his arms gently cushioned each jarring step taken.

A few of Spike's cold tears landed on her face when he closed the distance between their heads speaking so softly that only a slayer could hear "Be brave."

Her mind flashed to her sister's final loving words.

 _Dawn, the hardest thing in this world... is to live in it. Be brave. Live. For me_

 _Be Brave_

She repeated the thought in her mind, letting it focus into a steely resolve.

Be Brave, that's what she would do, for Buffy.

 **Cheyenne Mountain Complex (SGC) – Major Samantha Carters Lab**

Major Samantha 'Sam' Carter closed her eyes, soaking in a deep breath of the precious scent. "Coffee" she moaned to no one but the god of caffeine, letting her feet carry her along the memorized path to her home away from home.

The last several days had been brutal, stuck off world on a desolate planet trying to get a dial home device functioning once more. Only SG-1 could be so lucky as to have the DHD struck by a bolt of lightening only moments before they were scheduled to return home. Her ears were still ringing from the sonic boom of air ionizing into plasma only a dozen meters away.

Slumping into her chair she downed a gulp of the precious elixir, her attention caught by a flashing light on one of the many displays in her lab.

"Huh?"

Her weariness, gone in the flash of an LED, kicked her – according to Jack - 'Redicu-normous' brain from it's half conscious state into unrestrained overdrive. The puzzle of a new discovery springing her into action as she powered up servers left and right, rousing them from their waking slumber.

The thought of coffee was left behind as her eyes raced eagerly to dissect the data streaming across the screen. "What the?" She quickly dove into typing a brief report outlining what she had found. A brief report, a very brief report, twenty pages, tops.

Thirty minutes, and an angry glare at the subtle reminder in the form of an industrial paper shredder later. She'd paired her eighteen page report down to something more understandable to an senior Air force General. She sighed, cursing Jack's name and the industrial epoxy he'd used to mount the shredder next to her door.

Her eyes looking sadly at the half page of bare bone facts and details as she strode through the door on a mission towards her superior's office. Only three lonely numbers in the whole whopping two hundred and seven words, and one of those was in SG-1.

 **Cheyenne** **Mountain** **Complex (SGC) – General Hammond's Office**

"Major Carter, you wanted to see me" General George Hammond spoke, not bothering to lift his eyes from the intelligence packet resting on his desk.

"Yes sir, you know I keep an eye on any energy bursts that happen in or near earth's atmosphere."

"Yes …" He drew out the words finally breaking from another depressing report about how screwed they were. "I assume there is a point Major."

Sam shifted to hide the flinch at the General weary eyes. "Yes sir, two hours ago a massive energy burst was detected in California."

"A ship exiting hyperspace?"

"Unlikely sir. It doesn't match anything we have on record. And even then, from what we know, using hyperspace drives in atmosphere is basically like playing Russian roulette with a planet sized revolver."

Hammond managed a slight smile at the mental image of a Goa'uld Ha'tak smashing into the Earth's rocky embrace. "Then what was it?"

"No idea sir, but I think it's worth checking out. It was located in a town called Sunnydale. Where specifically in that town, I couldn't say."

Hammond frowned, closing the file on his desk. This was one of those issues where he wished he had a freer hand. "Sunnydale? We can't go there Major, not in any official capacity. Unless you have some kind of proof that there are aliens involved then we're strictly hands off. The NID will have to send someone."

It was Sam's turn to frown. "The NID sir? After the stunts they've pulled lately?"

General Hammond pierced his subordinate with an annoyed glare "Yes Major, the NID. I don't like it any more than you do but there are laws Major."

"I can go, strictly off the records Sir. Vacation and all that."

 _Like a dog with a bone this one._

Hammond admired an eager officer, but as tempted as he was to look the other way the angry looking red phone on his desk warned him against it. "I'm sorry Major, not this time. Sunnydale is strictly off limits by presidential order. And before you ask I don't know why."

Sam felt her aspirations of a new discovery dashed before they'd even found solid footing.

"Besides, the NID aren't all bad. After their glorious …" He caught himself before careless words of frustration could escape. "An old friend of mine has been assigned as our new liaison. Is that all Major?"

Sam sighed, subtly, making sure not to let the General see. "Yes sir"

"Good, then I'll expect you at the briefing at … " Hammond paused as he looked at his watch in contemplation "1200 Hours."

"Of course Sir."

"Major" Hammond quickly added, finally noticing the slight wrinkles in his officers disheveled uniform. Her weary eyes and tired face of a soldier on the verge of collapse. Kept going only by the excitement of a discovery now quashed. "Make it 1400 hours. Get some sleep Major. Before Dr. Fraisier sees you."


	3. Chapter 3 - Blood Back Guarantee

**Chapter 3 - Blood Back** **Guarantee**

 **August 6th, 2001 – 0425 Hours (4:25 A.M.)**

 **PRESENT - 2 MONTHS, 4 DAY AFTER BUFFY'S DEATH**

 **Sunnydale, California – 1630 Revello Drive**

 _Be Brave_

Dawn gasp, shooting up from her pillows. Her breaths shallow and frantic as she fought for air, catching her breath after the nightmare that continued to plague her dreams.

 _It was the same, it was always the same._

Every single detail of that horrid night re-lived in perfect detail. Of all the things she could dream about, why this? Massaging her temples with a hand she pulled the covers up to cover her bare chest with the other. An unconscious reaction, unnecessary in the sanctuary of her bedroom, but logic had no place in the fuzzy thoughts of a fresh day yet to see the sun.

 _Why did everything in her life turn to ash?_

Buffy was dead, sacrificed to save a world that had never, and would never appreciate all she had suffered on its behalf.

Her mom was gone, another casualty of the unfair cruelty known as life if Giles was to be believed. She still wasn't certain that implanted memories and a brain tumor were wholly unrelated. She'd likely never know.

Spike …

The world seemed a lesser place without his brash personality. Somehow she knew he wouldn't have it any other way. She knew a part of him had died that night. Something had died in all of them the instant Buffy's heart had stopped. The vampire … the man had taught her so much, given her so much in so short a time before finally finding his end after a century unliving the illusion of immortality. He'd given until he'd finally gave all that was left.

All because of her, because she'd decided she was a Slayer.

She scoffed at herself, throwing her head back into it's pillowy home. Her eyes clamping back closed, praying silently to any god that would listen to take it all back. There was one person that connected all the dots. The person she hated, the one she saw every morning when weary blue eyes looked back from the reflection in the mirror.

Was this what she was? The Key? The Slayer? Dark power destined to destroy everything it touched? Someone worthy of only the pain she brought to others as they slipped away? Watched as they rejected her one by one and fled or died?

The Scoobies more resembled an Alcoholics Anonymous group now, rather than the cohesive unit they'd once been. Weakly glued together by the ghosts of friendships and the knowledge that no one else could really understand what they'd been through. No one except those who'd been there. The charismatic center they'd all formed around now buried in the nicest coffin they'd been able to afford.

That was it, all the years of sacrifice, blood, and battle and her sister's only reward had been a coffin just slightly above what the State of California deemed an acceptable bare minimum by law.

 _It just wasn't fair._

Everything her sister had given up and the world was still slated for another doomsday looming on the horizon that she was clueless on how to stop. As if her sisters life had only been a stop gap measure against the wheels of darkness, ceaselessly intent on grinding the world into nothing but the hell they came from.

She let her eyes slowly open, embracing the sting of tears begging to be set free. Afraid sleep would only bring the nightmares back once more. The glassy green eyes staring into nowhere framed in the battered face that never ceased to haunt her dreams.

 _It was always the same._

 _But did it have to be?_

 **12 DAYS LATER**

 **Sunnydale, California – 1630 Revello Drive**

Willow studied Dawn's clammy face, keeping a keen eye on the now dazed blue eyes. "Um … I think we better call it a day. You're not looking so good."

Dawn nodded, wiping some of the cold sweat off her face with a sleeve "Not feeling so good either. How much did tou fake … take?"

Willow's eyes darted to the floor for an instant before her face slipped into a half hearted smile. "Enough for today. Sorry Dawnie, but we need to get ready as quickly as we can. There's only a few more days left before the window opens. If we miss it, we'd have to wait until conditions are right again. And that's months away.

"Oh." Dawn leaned up from her chair as the room began to spin.

Willow quickly pressed the delirious young slayer back into the chair. "Oh no-no-no. Back in the chair."

Dawn was too tired to refuse her 'doctors' orders. Letting the redhead overpower her back into the same position where she'd been sitting for the last hour.

"Drink."

Dawn scowled at the mug coming her way. Her nose wrinkling in protest about what was about to happen. She grimaced as the pungent fluid touched her lips. The horrid taste now all too familiar as she forcing it down her throat before gag reflexes could have their say. "What the hell is in this stuff anyway?"

"You don't wanna know."

Dawn raised an eyebrow only for her eyes to slam shut an instant later, her face contorting into a grimace. Quickly clamping a hand over her mouth she forcibly swallowed back down some of the fluid her stomach had just attempted to expel.

A few moments of willing herself not to wretch and her composure had returned. "I don't wanna know? Or I **really** don't wanna know?"

Willow grinned "Amy got it for me. There's a couple ways to brew it depending on what materials you have, but some of the recipes … better not to know. I'd make it myself but …"

"I know, tight time table, yada yada."

"Right"

"I hate all this sneaking around."

Willow shrugged "Well, Anya's got a big mouth, hence, Amy. We have to wait till the last minute to tell them."

"I'm not a kid, I get it, okay." Dawn growled "So … you and Amy?"

… … … "You're not patrolling tonight right?"

"No."

"Good, the potion takes a while to restore your blood. Meanwhile, drink as many fluids today as you can."

"We've been over this before Willow."

"Mighta taken a tinsy bit more blood today than last time."

"How much is a tinsey? A little tinsey? Or a big tinsey?"

Willow flinched "A little … big … ish tinsey. One more time and we should have enough. Now drink."

Dawn was surprised to hear a growl, only seconds later as she took in Willow's startled face did she realize it had come from her own throat. Both caught off guard by the less than subtle warning from the slayer within and it's displeasure of being used as a blood bank. Her own feelings weren't far off as another luke warm mug of the gritty goop headed towards her mouth.

"This better work" Dawn warned as she began fighting another battle with her stomach.

"It'll work Dawnie. One-hundred percent Willow guaranteed or your money … err … blood back."


	4. Chapter 4 - Hank Summers

**A/N:** I've just updated this story with the current version from . If your following the story, I'd recommend starting over or at least skimming the chapters you've read. I've split the chapters into past and present to help it track better and made some tweaks. Sorry for the inconvenience. Some materials may have been shifted between chapters.

 **Chapter 4 - Hank Summers**

 **June 2nd, 2001 – 1400 Hours**

 **PAST - SEVEN HOURS AFTER BUFFY'S DEATH**

 **Cheyenne Mountain Complex – Conference Room**

"George! It's good to see you old friend" Hank Summers exclaimed as he shook Hammond's hand.

"It's been awhile Hank." Hammond agreed "How is everything? Joyce, the kids? Last time I saw the little ones they were only knee high. Buffy's got to be a grown woman by now."

Hank held his smile with a practiced ease. The last thing he wanted to do right now was a conversation about his family. There was plenty of blame to go around, but far too much could be laid at his own feet. Far too much that there was no taking back. "They're good." He guessed. "So, what's going on George?"

Hammond nodded "To business then. Hank, this is Major Carter, one of our more accomplished scientist here at the SGC. I know you're still trying to play catch up on on the day to day of our operations, but earlier we … Major Carter, detected an energy burst. For whatever reasons we've been ordered to keep clear off the location."

"Where?"

Hammond: "Sunnydale, California. Any light you can shed on what's going on there?"

Hank: "Sunnydale huh? Maybe a little, I don't know specifics but there was some kind of op going on there recently. Pretty hush hush though, even in my circles."

Hammond: "I see. Major Carter, can you please explain what you found."

"Yes sir"

"In english, Major."

"Of course sir" Sam flushed "A little over seven hours ago …"

 **2 DAYS LATER**

 **Sunnydale, California – 1630 Revello Drive**

Hank pulled towards the curb, his rental rolling to a halt after the short, nerve wracking trip from the local Airport. It'd been years since he visited this quiet town of nearly thirty thousand.

 _Too long … far too long._

He wanted to blame his failings as a father on the situation, Joyce, his work in the NID. The pressures from a job where the slightest of slips meant people dead or national secrets lost. It was a simple lie he told himself to rationalize his regrets. The less appealing truth neatly compartmentalized away.

His mind flashed to his preferred understanding of events. That Buffy's behavior had been the sole catalyst of his family's implosion. He'd failed to adapt, failed to address problems that at the time only seemed to get worse with each passing day.

His own behavior and performance at work had begun to suffer from the stress. Joyce had been so preoccupied with Buffy or Dawn and soon his wandering eye had caught a pretty face he couldn't seem to shake. One thing led to another and for a while, his life seemed under control.

All he'd succeeded in was adding another layer of troubles to an already complex family situation. Joyce being Joyce, missed very little, confronting him about his inability to keep it in his pants. The family he'd built which had once been so close lived on the knife's edge of divorce for months. Joyce's forgiveness only as genuine as the bitter words she spoke them with.

The breaking point, the day a policeman knocked on their front door. The day everything started to come crashing down piece by piece. He still remembered that day, his fury. The accusation that their daughter had burned down a gym. His fight with Joyce was so loud it took the woman half a day to get Dawn to come out of her room while he'd scoured the town. Checking every friends house, every mall, every last one of Buffy's haunts. Seething and ready to give his daughter the lesson of a lifetime. Only, there was no daughter to be found, not the one he owed a beating. He'd always thought of himself as a well restrained man. His work demanded a level head, calm decision making in a crisis.

But a stern talking to and a grounding was insufficient to cover the balance of discipline owed. Not this time, not after what she'd done. Buffy's ever increasing behavioral problems. The pile of letters documenting her lackluster performance in school, the fights. All the bruises she failed to hide. Buffy's radical shift in personality, from Daddy's little princess to that of a rebellious brat. The knee jerk response of heavy handed parenting only making matters worse. Now she had the gaul to hide, running away in an attempt to avoid the punishment that in his opinion, and even Joyce's for once, was sorely needed.

But even after days, his daughter was nowhere to be found.

Surprisingly, Buffy's disappearance had momentarily seemed to patch the wounds in his marriage. Both parents so worried about their daughter that fighting each other ranked too low on their priorities to even bother.

When their wayward daughter had finally returned, her rebellious attitude was gone, replaced with tears and a thousand yard gaze. A look he'd seen before, it was a sobering thing to see in his fifteen year old daughter. When they'd settled down enough to talk to Buffy the sobbing pleas and the story that finally slipped from her mouth had been ridiculous. So terrified to face the consequences of her own actions that her mind had cracked, looking to myths and legends to rationalize her own actions. Their daughter had been beyond what help they could give her.

 _Vampires_

He loathed the word and all it had cost him. Looking back, it was the final Buffy-shaped nail in the coffin of his marriage. They'd argued about what to do, for days they'd fought, but in the end a tearful Joyce had finally relented.

The car ride 'to talk' away from the prying ears of the ever curious littlest Summers worked perfectly. He'd always had a weak spot for his daughters, ever father did. But Buffy had a natural way with her expressions, able to crush his resolve with an eyebrow or well timed pout. The betrayal written on her face the instant she realized what exactly had been planned haunted him to this day. Four men and a sedative later she was gone, along with the last of her trust in them.

The weeks that had followed were hard on everyone. Dawn was thankfully clueless, the lie that Buffy was at a retreat miraculously holding against the littlest summers natural curiosity. Joyce couldn't bring herself to look at him afterwards. The small recovery to their marriage had been destroyed. The pressure of his home life coupled with his wayward daughter had led him back to his coping mechanism, work, and any woman willing to squirm beneath his thrusts. Joyce, of course, had once again found out using whatever witchcraft she seemed to possess. Sometimes he wondered if he should leave tracking spies and traitors to her instead.

Her reaction this time was far from understanding. The forgiveness she had forced herself to show the first time no longer present behind those cold eyes. The stress they were both under finally erupting into what became a drawn out divorce. By the time Buffy had been deemed well enough to return, the family she'd returned to was no more. Just a last name shared by people living under the same roof.

His lackluster efforts at repairing his relationship with his - now deemed sane - eldest daughter predictably failed. What little time he did spend with Buffy seemed to confirm that the little girl he'd once known was gone. Whatever combination of experiences in her life that she refused to talk about having removed all traces of innocence. Oh, she had been a good little actress, but he had years of experience seeing past a facade. He could see the signs of his daughter compartmentalizing her life. All it did was make him blame her even more for destroying his with her own foolishness.

The only upside to the tattered mess that his family had become was that it had allowed his career to soar. Focusing on work and little else, the sound of his family falling apart around him just chatter in the background. Within months he'd been promoted into a new division of the NID. At first it had seemed like a dream come true, a division that did whatever it took.

 _What a fool he'd been._

Now, he found himself staring in from outside of the house where his estranged family lived, reminded of his failings. Being assigned to the SGC, seeing George again, just knowing the way the man's family worshiped the ground he walked on. It all cut away at his pride and he'd swallowed the rest. He needed to fix this, repair what he'd not only broken, but obliterated before throwing it into the fires of hell itself.

He'd only been here a handful of times, for Dawn mostly, who seemed to still have an untainted place for him in her heart. Joyce always glared in anger, snapping thinly veiled slights behind the meaning in each of her words. Buffy … he let out a sigh. Buffy always fled behind a mask. She'd gotten better at controlling herself after the divorce, much better. Even he had a hard time seeing through her guises now. She seemed to try though, to forgive him for what he'd done. An instinctive drive to look past a fathers misdeeds and view their relationship through the eyes of her younger self.

Starting towards the front of the house he knew the reception would be an unpleasant one. But he needed to begin rebuilding bridges that had long ago burned. This was the opportunity he'd been waiting for, hopefully enough years had passed for wounds to heal. Walking up the driveway he tried to pick up on slight changes since the last time he'd been here. The house was exactly the same, the jeep he'd bought Joyce as a birthday present still parked in the center of the driveway. He rung the doorbell, raising the flowers he'd bought as a peace offering to the first Summer's woman who opened the door.

What he hadn't expected was the ragged looking redhead who greeted him. Her messy hair and puffy, bloodshot eyes quickly betraying that her day was going far from how she wanted, like she'd just woken after a week long bender. "I'm looking for Joyce Summers. Does she … does she still live here?"

Any doubt that she did was removed instantly as the young woman's face turned into a glare. Obviously someone firmly entrenched in the 'kill Hank Summers camp'. He watched as her head dropped, hiding her face from his curious view. shaking side to side like the disappointed parent he'd once been.

"Wait here."

Seconds later the door swung open once more. But what greeted him was not the elegant blonde he had fallen in love with so many years ago, nor vibrant face of either of his daughters. Instead an equally ragged looking man filled his view, days behind on his shaving by appearance. "Oh. I didn't know Joyce was seeing someone. You're her … boyfriend?" It was a surprise, but a conversation for another day. "I'm Hank Summers" He forced a 'genuine' smile.

The man's response mirrored the redheads as he opened the door the rest of the way. A few more unfamiliar faces gathered around the kitchen table coming into view. Each wearing the same ragged expression, organized around the redhead now typing away on a computer. Each one periodically pointed at the screen uttering words too far away to hear. He frowned when instead of being invited in, the man simply came outside closing the door firmly behind him. It was a cold greeting and he'd been prepared for it. Just not prepared to receive it from a man he didn't know.

"Perhaps it's best if we have this conversation away from the house" The man replied as he began walking into the yard.

Hank hated following along, but he he needed to play the part. Self respect could come later, right now he just wanted to see his daughter, daughters. He was here to beg forgiveness and a place back in their lives. Lives that this man, whomever he was, played some kind of role. "You didn't answer my question."

The man finally stopped as he reached a large tree in the front yard, apparently finally ready to talk "No, I didn't."

Hank swallowed down the sharp words that popped in his mind. "Where's Joyce?" He'd tried to be diplomatic but the words still came out harshly.

"My name is Rupert Giles. I'm a family friend to the Summers. If my memory serves me your Buffy and Dawn's father." At Hank's nod Giles continued "I'm afraid Joyce has passed away. Several months ago in fact."

Hank's eyes went wide from the hard yet clear statement "What?"

 _Joyce?_

 _Gone?_

Giles face betrayed nothing as he prepared to deal with the fallout. It was hard to sympathize for a man with such little interest in his families lives. So removed that he didn't even know his children's mother was dead, months ago. In a dark corner of his mind he felt a brief flash of satisfaction knowing he was about to inflict some small act of retribution on his slayer's behalf. But the reminder of Buffy removed whatever sliver of relief he'd just found, back to the crushing grief they were all feeling at the loss of her brilliant smile.

"You heard me."

… … … "How?"

"She was diagnosed with a brain tumor in December. A month later it was removed. Unfortunately, complications arose a few months after that. She died in March of a brain aneurysm."

Hank's face fell from the calm mask to one of grief as every moment he spent analyzing the expressions of Mr Giles removed his doubt second by agonizing second. There was no dishonesty in those cold eyes. The piece of his brain that was always on duty confirming that everything that he'd just heard was the truth while another still clung to denial. "I … I didn't know."

Giles face flashed with a moment of anger. "No … you didn't. We tried contacting you for months. Though, in hindsight … … … perhaps it's best this way."

"Best? Are you out of your mind? Leaving Dawn to Buffy of all people, Alone?"

Giles prayed for patience, his fingernails digging further into the palms of his fist. "Perhaps it's best if you sit down for this part Mr. Summers." Giles gestured towards a bench placed against the nearby tree. He stifled his thoughts, noticing the ground was littered by the smoke scented tracks of Spike's protective lurking.

"I'd like to speak to Buffy?"

Giles took a deep breath, studying the lightly salted features of the man. Anything to stall the words he still couldn't accept leaving his mouth. "Buffy died two days ago."

Hank took the advice he'd been given. Stumbling numbly towards the slatted wooden bench. This was a nightmare, it had to be. Any second he was going to wake up. His eyes would open to a new day and he'd walk right over to his phone to call Joyce.

His mind latched onto the idea like a life raft. He'd speak to Joyce, ask her how her art gallery was doing. He didn't care but the store's profits were what kept his daughters provided for. After a few minutes of pretending to care he'd speak to Buffy, give her a round of stern fatherly advice before moving on to Dawn. His lips curled into a slight smile as he thought of speaking with Dawn. She was a handful no doubt, but her quirky charm could grow on anyone. So much like her sister once was. Closing his eyes he knew this was some kind of subconscious wake up call. Another sign that he needed to fix the relationship with his daughters. He drew his hand back, smacking himself across the face with a heavy palm. His eyes widened in fear as he realized he didn't wake.

"If only it were it so easy to wake from this nightmare."

"I … "

"Buffy died saving Dawn from being hit by a bus. Her funeral is tomorrow."

… … …

"Dawn is the only one of your family still alive. As you can imagine, she's in no condition to see anyone right now, let alone her absentee father. Now that he's finally found the time to care."

"Who do you think you are?" Hank yelled.

Giles patience was long gone, his responsibility to Dawn the only thing holding back Ripper's need to feel the 'crack' of the man's neck snapped beneath his rage.

Everyone's patience was short, each trying to cope with the loss in their own way. Anya had turned to sex. Xander had turned to Willow ignoring Anya. Willow turned to Magic ignoring everything but it's addictive pull. Tara just seemed lost, her girlfriend acting erratically while the entire group dynamic she was just now getting acquainted with disintegrated before her eyes. Spike seemed slightly more pissed at the world than normal, if that was even possible. And Dawn … Dawn bypassed the denial phase the rest were trapped in and jumped head first into anger and grief. Shutting everyone out of her life with a very literal slam of a door.

They'd all lost Buffy. No matter how bad things were she was always the light guiding them through the darkness surrounding them. He sighed, vengeance would need to wait. The last thing Dawn needed was hearing him get into a shouting match with her father or the quickly silenced cry of pain before he ended the man's life.

He could relate to what the man was feeling. Buffy was as much if not more his daughter than she was Hank's in his mind. If it were him in Hank's position … he understood. Who did he think he was? That was an easy question to answer.

"According to the legal papers Buffy prepared, Dawn's legal guardian."

"What! She can't do that!" Hank's head jerked up as the conversation took yet another unexpected turn.

"After you failed to even call after Joyce died or show up for the last four years?" Giles let a little Ripperish grin show through "I assure you, she did."

Hank's newly found anger was boiling dangerously close to the edge as he processed what he was being told "I don't believe you. This is some kind of joke. I want to speak to Buffy. Right now!"

"Then I suggest you end your life." Giles suggested.

"What?"

"If you'd like to speak to Buffy."

"Are you insane?"

"That depends who you ask."

Hank growled at the man. Yet try as he might to catch that little glimmer of a lie in Mr. Gile's eyes, the icy glare held only the pain of truth.

 _Buffy was gone._

"I want to speak to Dawn."

"I thought you might. I'll see if she's willing."

"No! You get her down here right fucking now. I don't care what she says."

Giles teeth clenched shut so tightly his jaw popped. "You have no say here Mr. Summers."

"I'm her father!"

"Not anymore, not according to the State of California."

Hank's anger finally exploded as he shot to his feet, attempting to storm past the infuriating man only to find himself staring at the sky. Seconds later he was back on his feet, his face red with fury and the embarrassment that he'd let his training lapse so completely as to be surprised by a forty year old civilian.

Giles held up a stalling hand "I really would rather not explain to Dawn why her father's body's laying in the front lawn. But try that again, and I'm sure I'll think of something."

"Is that a threat! Do you have and idea the hell I can reign down on your head?"

"I'm sure we'll manage."

… … …

… … …

"Buffy doesn't have the power to remove me as Dawn's guardian."

Giles let a little his smirk widen on his lips a little more. A move sure to enrage the man even more than he already was. In that moment, he decided his Slayer would have been proud of him using his face as a weapon. "Funny thing about your daughter. She was a remarkably adaptive individual. People underestimated her. I'd like to believe she got that from her mother."

"Borderline unstable sounds more accurate. And not smart enough to find a legal loophole, not with the lawyers around here."

"As I said, remarkably adaptive your daughter, and far more intelligent than people gave her credit. You haven't spoken to your daughters in nearly two years Mr. Summers, haven't made a visit in four. She called every single number we could find trying to locate you when Joyce died. She spoke to your employers, spoke with the LAPD, any friends we could find, and she documented every single call. Buffy didn't want Dawn to end up in a foster family, so she planned as best she could with what information she had available. She made sure Dawn would always have someone. I'll provide you a copy of what paperwork I have tomorrow. Until a judge tells me otherwise, Dawn's my responsibility. I promised Buffy I'd look after her as my own. I'll not stand by and turn her over to you just to be ignored and forgotten."

… … …

Giles couldn't help twist the knife "And just in case your thinking about challenging my custody, you should know, Buffy kept very extensive diaries. Every visitation you failed to attend, every holiday, every birthday you forgot. According to her, they should be admissible in court. I haven't read them, but she assured me their content paints you very … unfavorably. As I said, far smarter than anyone gave her credit."

… … … "This isn't happening"

"Believe me, I wish it were the case." Giles commiserated.

Hank sat back down on the bench feeling a dizzy spell from all the information hitting him at once. The more he searched the face of this other man, the more he knew every piece of it was the brutal, unfiltered, truth, all of it. A small part of his mind reminded him this kind of fight couldn't be settled here. Another part feared just what those diaries might say. He needed facts, he needed to cool off, he needed: "I want to see Dawn."

"Let me check with her. Please wait around back, I'm sure she doesn't want the neighbors watching any more than they've already seen."

Hank angrily compiled, stomping his way through the gate and into the lush greenery behind the house. Noting that it seemed Joyce still spread plant life wherever she went. As requested, moments later Dawn's face appeared just as the door swung out of the way. He was amazed at how tall she'd become, taller than Buffy … His heart dropped as he realized what he had just thought. The reality that his eldest daughter was gone stabbing into his heart as his mind began putting the pieces of reality together. Dawn's face was even more weary than the others. Ratty tangled hair and tear stained cheeks all but confirmed everything that Mr. Giles had told him.

 _Buffy was gone._

He moved forward to wrap his only remaining daughter in a comforting hug "Dawnie, baby."

What he found instead of the grieving embrace he'd expected, was a tiny fist driven into his diaphragm. The hit forcing the air from his lungs as he collapsed to his knees gasping in surprise.

"Don't bother showing up tomorrow for the funeral. You didn't want to be there for Buffy when she was alive, you don't deserve to be there now. Get off my porch or I'll have Giles throw you off." Dawn added insult to injury, shoving him over onto the flat of his back with a bare foot.

The door slammed shut behind her before he'd even gotten back to his knees, still struggled to regain his breath.

Inside the house all eyes turned, watching the newly minted slayer storm up the stairs and back to her room. Seconds later another door slammed followed by a muffled scream echoing down to the dinning room where the finishing plans for Buffy's funeral were being made.

With the exception of spike, no one dare get too close. He was the only one durable enough to survive the violent mood swings of the unstable slayer. Even Giles kept a respectable arms length between himself and Dawn if he interrupted her grieving. The fact that Hank Summers was getting back to shaky feet could be considered a miracle. Everyone's eyes had turned to Giles now. His face relieved as he tucked the tranquilizer gun back in it's cubby. The dart capable of taking down an elephant, or a slayer, thankfully still unused.

 **Sunnydale, California – Initiative Facility Entrance**

The difficult, but pleasant reunion with his family Hank had envisioned had turned into a nightmare. But as he closed on his target, still seething and shocked, he allowed his thoughts to turn to a familiar outlet, the one thing he knew. Work. Immersing himself in the familiar concentration. Attempting to drown out thoughts of Buffy with questions about what had brought him here. Regardless of his personal life the mission is what mattered.

It was all too easy to let his pain and rage redirected itself to a familiar outlet. It was Buffy's fault. Her fault Joyce had died, her own fault she had died, the reason Dawn hated him. Telling Dawn lies and stretching the truth painting him as the monster of the story. As he walked towards the destination on the map he swallowed hard, never noticing the tear rolling down his cheek as he turned his focus back to the task at hand.

His orders were simple. Snoop around the Initiative and make sure it was inactive. Strict directions not to enter or open any of the doors. The project had been closed down, it's true purpose scrubbed from existence. There were secrets here, secrets that no one wanted getting out. Secrets even he wasn't privy to. Just a flag on the file so convoluted it screamed 'landmines' he was anxious to avoid. The debris left behind from these kinds of black operations had a way of ruining everyone's day. Another rouge group and a potential scar on the NID's record.

So far, none of the entrances he'd checked showed any signs of use. Now, just on the edge of the local campus he was at the last on his list, glad it showed nothing of concern. The house demolished, the elevator shafts backfilled and paved over. A parking lot covering the reinforced concrete bunker lurking beneath. The secret secured to remain for decades, maybe centuries before it needed to be dealt with. Plenty of time for anyone responsible to be long gone. Before the fallout could occur from dealing with a collapsing underground fortress that 'didn't exist.'

With the initial portion of his assignment complete he meandered, driving casually through town following loose instructions from the major before finally stumbling across an area which showed damage. A poorly constructed steel scaffold off in the distance surrounded by caution tape from the local police. Despite his mood he managed a small chuckle at the 'Warning - Unstable Structure' sign that was posted just outside of the cordon.

He briefly wondered how incompetent a person would have to be to even think of approaching such a ungainly heap of twisted metal. The Goa'uld with all of their flaws were at least smart enough to avoid such a potential calamity of engineering that was this tower. He took several photos making a mental note to return in the light of day and take more. Whatever it was that Major Carter had detected, the scorch marks on the surrounding buildings made it a safe assumption that this was the epicenter.

Driving off, his mind twitched, catching a glimpse of familiar headlights. The following car beginning to sound alarm bells as he raked his memory wondering how long it'd been there, the unconscious byproduct of nearly two decades of near daily paranoia. He quickly shook off his suspicious as the old beaten desoto passed him by. People who drove cars like that, and looked like Billy Idol, did not a spy make.

Anyone he was worried about, the people that worked in the darker side of national pride, those people wanted to blended in, not … this. The other driver seemed to notice the attention as they waited side by side at a red light. His thoughts confirmed when he flipped him the bird and sped off in a screech of tires and a plume of burnt motor oil. The people in his world simply didn't make a scene that would make them memorable. Resigning himself to typing reports for the rest of the night he worked his way towards his motel. Keeping his mind focused on the task at hand and not letting it drift to the looming guilt that would soon overpower his ability of self delusion.

 **Sunnydale, California – Giles's Apartment**

"So, I take it our new … friend … made it indoors safely?" Giles asked as Spike waltzed through the door with a cocky pride like he owned the place.

"Snug as a bug in a rug. Not sure why you wanted me to keep the ponce safe. Probably easier on the bit if he just disappeared. Got loads of friends, well … things … that would happily make him go away, permanently." Spike smirked as he sunk into the couch with a 'thud', leather billowing in the rush of motion.

"The last thing Dawn needs right now is to bury yet another family member. Even if she hates him right now, he's still her father. If he dies, it's just going to add that much more fuel to the fire."

"Shows just how good a woman Joyce was, the way her daughters turned out with that piece of work as a father. We sure they're really his?"

Giles focused his glare before realizing it was a joke.

"I'm serious about making him go away. Better to get it all out of the way at once. Bit won't even notice if he never comes back. Got enough on her mind right now."

"We're not having this conversation Spike, we're not talking about arranging Mr. Summers death."

 _Yet_

Giles watched, unnerved as Spike's lips curled into a eery smile, like the vampire somehow had access to his mind. "She's confused enough as it is. I don't want her torn up hating the man and feeling sorry for him all at the same time. She's a slayer Spike, and we both know how similar to Buffy she is. How do you think she'll feel knowing a human, let alone her father, was killed because she was too busy grieving to take up the mantle of her sister? She needs time to cope."

Spike shrugged "Just saying, she doesn't need to know."

"There are other reasons in play here Spike." Giles explained, sitting down with a tumbler of whiskey. Pushing another towards Spike.

Spike grinned, reaching towards the glass only to take the bottle instead. Ignoring the angry glance as he took a swig. "You mean like why the first place Summers Senior went was the initiative? He scoped out every entrance we knew about, few we didn't. Definitely involved in something. Makes me wonder what he really knew about Buffy. He even stopped by Glories tower for a little looksy."

Giles sighed, another source of worry stacking on top of his mounting responsibilities. "I was afraid of this. Keep an eye on him until he leaves town. But I don't think he knew about Buffy's calling. He seemed remarkably uninformed, and from what I know about Buffy's past I just don't see it."

Spike raised an eyebrow "What about Buffy's past?"

"Nothing you need to know about."

"Fine, fine." Spike raised his hands in mock surrender "Least tell me what the ponce is up to. I don't fancy all of the questions starting to pile up."

Giles put down his glass, leaning forward clasping his hands between his knees "The Watcher's Council, though misguided at times, are masters of political theater. Much of that comes from their ability to gather intelligence on their enemies, and their allies. When Buffy was found to be the newest slayer, one of the first things that was done was to dig through the identities of anyone around her. Joyce was exactly as she seemed, Hank Summers background, however, had … inconsistencies. They concluded him to be an intelligence operative of unknown loyalty."

Spike leaned back, resting his arms on the back of the couch spread like wings. "Huh, guess that explains why the bugger is so hard to get a hold of."

Giles took another drink "Quite."

"So if he went missing …"

"More may come"

"Buffy know, 'bout Hank?"

Giles eyes narrowed.

"Right, course not. Slayer didn't need another thing to worry her pretty little head about."

"It doesn't matter anymore"

"No shit gramps. You gonna tell Dawn?"

Giles let out a sigh "I don't know. I'm not sure what it would accomplish. He'll be gone soon enough and hopefully that will be the end of it. How was Dawn when you checked in on her?"

"Finally asleep for once. Think the witches mighta had a hand in that. Seemed like they had everything under control."

"That's a slippery slope"

Spike shrugged "At this point, anything to get her to stop balling her eyes out is fine by me. She blames herself you know, for Buffy's death."

Giles frowned "There's not much we can do about that. Not that I hold it against her, but in a way she is responsible. It's just something she's going to have to work through."

Spike took another swig from the bottle before walked towards the door bottle in hand. "Wish I thought you were wrong about that watcher."


	5. Chapter 5 - What Goes Down

**Chapter 5 - What Goes Down . . .**

 **August 21st, 2001 – 1615 Hours**

 **PRESENT - 2 MONTHS, 19 DAYS AFTER BUFFY'S DEATH**

 **Sunnydale, California – 1630 Revello Drive**

"The urn of Osiris." Willow said with awe as she looked at the small vase in her hands "You finally got it."

"Yeah. It wasn't easy." Amy grumbled carefully handing it to Willow.

"And you never asked anyone at The Magic Box, right?"

Amy sneered "I'm not an idiot Willow. Why else would you ask me to find it and not your friends. Besides, I ended up getting it on eBay."

"You found the last known urn of Osiris on eBay?" Dawn asked surprised by that bit of news.

"Yeah" Amy twitched nervously, her nose quickly scratched with her hands in a very rodent like manner "What's with the face? It's what your after, I checked."

Willow studied the urn with a frown "No-no … it's the one … which means it's time." Willow finally answered with resolve.

"It's time? Like, **time** time?" Dawn asked.

"Yes, it's time. I know it feels kinda … sudden but Mercury's in retrograde and-"

Dawn: "Something wrong?"

"No … It's just, well, I've been working on this since the day after Buffy's funeral. I … planning isn't the same as actually doing it."

"And you're sure? You can do this?" Amy asked. "Not to doubt you, but more experienced people have tried … and died."

Dawn grinned "Willow says we should have any problems because we-"

"I'm Sure!" Willow cut her off with a warning glare.

"Right. And we have... Do we have everything?" Dawn asked sheepishly as she looked at Willow.

"Just about, only one thing left and it kinda had to wait until the end." Willow said nodding. "Amy, we could use you for the-"

"Oh-no." Amy cut her off "Look, I like Buffy, but this … good luck and all but I'm not risking my life trying to resurrect your friend." She took the envelope of cash sitting on the coffee table and headed towards the door, pausing as it swung open. "Let me know how it turns out." She said before it closed behind her.

Dawn looked towards Willow, still studying every little detail of the urn now inches from her face. An uneasy though popped into her head. "You said you've been preparing this since Buffy died."

"Yeah, mostly just seeing if it was possible and … uhhh … hey, it is." Willow smiled.

"How long have you had Amy looking for the urn?"

"Uhh, maybe a month of so. Needed something to keep her busy. Rat flashbacks."

"So, you've been paying Amy, with your own money, to look for the urn for a month now. But you only checked to see if Buffy was in hell when I asked you to last week?"

"I..." Willow looked up at Dawn. "I wanted to be prepared."

Dawn sneered "You've been planning this all along! You never even checked did you!?"

Willow opened her mouth several times only to clamp her jaws shut. Finally managing to blurt out the first thing that came. "No-no, I checked."

Dawn's mind was as sharp as ever as she processed the words. "You checked? You checked, and you knew I wouldn't go along with this if you told me the truth. Buffy's not even in hell is she?"

"I … " Willow tried to answer but the words were stuck in her mouth as it quickly became dry with nervousness. Her plan was collapsing. Without Dawn there was no plan, no way to pull this off. Realizing there was no way to salvage this unless she could win Dawn over she she decided it was time for the truth. "She's in heaven."

"You! … You! … " Dawn started only to have the words refuse to leave as her face burned with anger. "You lied to me! Told me she was in hell! How could you do that?"

A part of Willow snapped at the accusation "Oh come on! Like you wouldn't do whatever it took to bring Buffy back. Yeah, she's in heaven. And she can go back there when she dies again. But we need her here, now. We need her help to stop the world from ending. Look me in the eye and tell me she wouldn't do whatever it took."

"You shouldn't have lied to me. We can come up with another way."

Willow let out a depressing laugh "Like **what** Dawn? Spike's gone, and the other Slayer is just gonna sit back at watch it happen. We need Buffy, we need a real slayer."

Dawn's glare could kill as she focused on Willow "And what am I? Just a knock off?"

"You know what I mean. Maybe in a year or two you'd be up for it. But it needs to happen, and soon. In a few months the Immortal is going to open the hellmouth and when he does were all fucked. And not in a good way."

"So what? You just decided to lie to get your way?

Willow scoffed. "Grow up Dawnie! Welcome to the real world. Your a slayer, time you put your big girl pants on. Yeah, I lied, get over it. In a few more days the conditions will be the best they can be for for months. Either we do it, or we don't. Either we use Buffy to save the world, or we try to come up with another plan with no guarantee of success. You've already said you could have beaten The Immortal with just a little more help. Well, here's your chance to get it. So step up and make a decision."

Dawn shrunk into her portion of the couch, her eyes closing on reflex. A vain attempt to find a small measure of solitude from Willow's steely gaze. Is this how Buffy felt every time she had to save the world? Stuck between a myriad of bad options and worse alternatives.

Why did it have to be her? She wished so very much that Buffy was here in this moment. Someone to give advice, to take the burden of making decisions, to hold her and make the nightmare go away. She grit her teeth as her mind settled on her answer.

 _Be Brave._

 _Forgive me._

"Okay."

 **4 DAYS LATER**

 **Sunnydale, California – St. Mary's** **Cemetery**

Xander watched, still shocked at what was happening before his eyes. Only yesterday Dawn and Willow had turned his life upside down, swearing him and Anya to secrecy. He couldn't help the sting he felt, that they had planned this, all of this, without speaking a single word until yesterday. He'd fumed and ranted to Anya, who'd simply shrugged. As if resurrecting someone was the same as brushing your teeth.

 _Eleven hundred and twenty two years old._

After that many years it really shouldn't surprise him that she'd seen it all. He shook his head clearing his thoughts. He'd be damned if Buffy came back a zombie because he had the attention span of a rabbit.

 _Rabbit._

He bit down the chuckle. Humored at the thought of Anya running in fear of the hopping fluff. Somewhat ironic after she hadn't batted an eye at this display of deeply dark magic. Once she'd seen the spell and confirmed it should work without fatality, specifically her fatality, she'd been unphased, impressed even. He continued his chant, the paper resting before him barley illuminated by his candle. The Latin words were foreign but he'd spent enough years wringing information out of dusty books to know more than his fair share, and those he recognized he knew he didn't like.

He felt a flutter in his stomach as the intensity of Willows spell hit an even darker note. The air crackling with so much power even he could feel the gentle buzz, taste the ozone in the air from the charge. The whole resurrection spell was far more than he'd bargained for when he'd happily agreed yesterday. Nor did 'oh, you'll just have to read some lines' seem like an adequate explanation of what had been asked of him.

He'd known Willow was being coy, but only at the instant he'd arrived did the gravity of what they were doing sink in. He'd heard it, over and over again as Giles warned her.

 _Never use blood magic!_

Now, looking at the desecrated site of Buffy's grave, the words blood magic just seemed … inadequate.

He and Anya had shown up thirty minutes ago, exactly as requested, only to find not one ounce of sod undisturbed. Artful little ditches dug in an intricate pattern of runes over every inch of the grave. The garden trowel clutched in Dawn's hand still carving furiously, interrupted only when she paused to compare her work to a nearby sketch.

Then … came the blood. An entire cooler full of blood, Dawn's blood, the Key's blood. Poured with a calculated precision into the ditches with no drop wasted. The air, now so thick with the metallic tang he could practically taste it on his tongue. Every instinct he had told him this was wrong, to run, but there was no refusing those blue eyes pleading to have her sister back.

He'd managed to find some small measure of comfort in knowing it couldn't get worse, but yet … it did. As a deer walked lazily towards them he shot a questioning look at Anya who once again shrugged. It was a beautiful creature, elegant even if not for the glassy black eyes of an animal with a will no longer its own. A matching pair eyes on Willows face but sharp and frightening in contrast as she mentally marched the animal towards Buffy's grave, carefully avoiding any of the painstakingly dug blood moats.

He was sure he knew where this was going when he saw the word 'sacrificium' in his script, somehow, he should have known that wasn't where it ended. Before his mouth could find words Dawn stripped to her undergarments, kneeling in front of the deer just as Willow slit its throat, yanking the head back in a red spray. Willow casually handing the knife to Dawn and picking up a small vase, catching a few arterial spurts. The animal - still under Willow's thrall - stood motionless, uncaring as it's life drained away. Finally it slumped to the ground, pre-positioned to take its final breath at the foot of Buffy's grave. Dawn - now covered head to toe in blood – seemed to look warily at Willow. But after a confirming nod she slit her wrist, pumping her fist to help a stream of blood join the deer's in the vase. That complete, she laid down, centered over her sister with only the whites of her eyes not covered in crimson red.

"A life for a life" Willow had quickly explained. As if the words somehow made any of this okay. Then, as if the whole display hadn't been gruesome enough, she slit the deer open stem to stern, repeatedly stabbing the vitals of the deer before adding deep cuts in every limb. Somehow, even more blood managed to flow into the trenches.

" _No matter what happens, don't stop."_

He shook his head, chanting with a renewed vigor. It had seemed like hours. Willing, demanding with his now hoarse voice that his friend be returned to the land of the living. Over and over he repeated the words, ignoring the blood seeping through his pants. Doing anything to force the voice questioning the wisdom of this to be silent. One look at Willow in all her black eyed glory and doubt was replaced with fear as the air crackled around them, charged with static. This was not the mousy little girl that his friend used to be. This was a new Willow, a scary Willow, one that made a chill run down his spine. He grit his teeth, they were committed, all he could do was watch as the dark magic unfolded in front of him.

"Osiris, release her!" Willow demanded.

The dazzling lights, and terrifying show Willow was putting on had all eyes focused on the spell. Each too distracted by the shift in Willow's hair from fiery red to jet black to even notice that they were no longer alone. No one hearing the shuffle of feet slowly surrounding them in the blackness of night, just beyond where the light of the spell faded.

Xander's eyes caught the sudden flash of worry in Dawn's face but she remained in her place, motionless on her back. Willow had been vague on what the consequences would be if the spell was interrupted, but the consequences of magic were never a laughing matter. And this was far from the innocence of a locator spell. He chanted, keeping the steady stream of words flowing, nervously scanning the blackness of a moonless night for what Dawn had sensed. He'd been around slayers long enough to know that look. The moment when predator realized they were about to become prey.

Then he saw it, the instant Dawn's eyes widened.

Everything happened so fast. The blade headed towards Willow's head unseen by the witch as a minion of The Immortal swung from behind. He reacted on instinct, using agility that years on a hellmouth had instilled. There was an irrational glee that crept over him, knowing he'd saved Willow's life. Unphased as Anya shoved a knife through the eye of the attacking minion, he felt warm, giggling as the world started to spin. Looking down at what was once his hand reality sunk in.

He stumbled. His eyes finding the misplaced hunk of twitching flesh just as he tripped over the carcass of the deer. His mind going black as his body crashed onto the vase which centered the spell.

Dawn watched in horror. Unable to move, to break the spell she so desperately needed to work. Powerless as she saw the urn of Osiris being smashed in slow motion.

"No!" She heard Willow scream. The spell exploding in a brilliant 'boom' as energy built up was released in an instant into the surrounding air. The figures creeping towards them outside the perimeter of the spell incinerated in the blast. Yet, more came, she could see them, their outlines moving in the distant shadows, unphased by the fate of their closer brethren.

Time moved slowly, she wanted to cry, watching uselessly as all their preparation, their planning, was lost in the pieces of ancient clay now broken. The slayer inside of her broke through the daze, forcing her body into motion. There was only one thing they could do.

"Run!"

 **Higher Planes**

Time had no meaning as Whistler chimed a happy tune. Imaginary air giving 'sound' as it squeezed between pursed lips. Looking at the Powers That Be assembled before him, he caught an expression he could only assume was a scowl. His grin forcibly disrupting the sweet melody announcing his arrival.

His eyes passed over the hazy figures, each glaring down at him from their raised podiums. He scoffed at the display. The powers wanting their authority known in a dimension where the towering height had no other function. "Glad you finally found the time."

" _You left us little choice."_ The smoky voice of one of the powers announced.

Whistler kept a blank face as he turned to face the nameless power that had spoken.

" _Your scheme has failed."_

"Failed … seems to be a stretch" Whistler defended.

" _Oh?"_

… … …

" _Has the witch somehow completed the ritual without my knowledge?"_

Whistler turned his eyes to yet another power, Osiris. A smug expression unmistakably written on the power's 'face.'

"Obviously, she was interpreted" Whistler rolled his eyes. "But I believe the ritual was in fact completed. You simply refused her request, never … let it happen."

" _As is my right."_

" _Are you suggesting we allow this … affront?"_

" _This Desecration?"_

" _Abomination?"_

"What else could 'Let it Happen' possibly mean?"

" _Take care your tongue, demon."_

"And where would the fun be in that?" Whistler fought back the chuckle.

" _Fun?"_

" _Do you comprehend what your actions could set in motion?"_

" _The destruction?"_

" _The horrors?"_

He knew better than to try to track the broken words of beings speaking as one. Each giving voice to a fragment of their collective thoughts. He let his eyes hold on Osiris. One of the few powers that even acknowledged the 'feeble' concept of a name. The fate of this meeting was his to decree, life after death his domain. "You cursed me to maintain balance for eternity, I'm simply … maintaining."

" _By retrieving the last of my sacred urns?"_

" _Letting it fall into the hands of mortals?"_

" _Setting your plans in motion?"_

" _You wish unleash such darkness?"_

"Without darkness light has no meaning. Everything in balance." Whistler calmly played the game of riddles with the gods before him.

" _There are many paths she could take." Osiris_ spoke.

He grinned at the wording, enjoying the first sign of the powers budging from their rigid stance. "There always are."

" _And you believe yourself able to … nudge … events in an adequate direction?"_

"I already have."

" _You speak of your previous … meddling-"_

" _-in what was written?"_

"What else. Needed someone to keep the pieces glued together. Tell me, in all of the millions, billions, trillions of paths, in how many does Rupert Giles survive?"

… … …

"That's what I thought. D'Hoffryn and his agents have their uses. Even a She'kak'na needs something to help guide it to a target."

" _Keep your queries and responses to the branch of reality in question, demon."_

" _Of her paths, few avoid calamity."_

"Calamity's her middle name. Why avoid such a gift?"

" _And yet, you still intend to unleash her, and your … pet?"_

" _Guide her towards the tasks that our neighbors refuse to undertake?"_

" _A very dangerous game you've planned."_

"That's the best kind there is."

" _What assurances can you give-"_

" _-for success."_

"Absolutely none. But then, you already knew that." He rolled his eyes once more. It had taken a few thousand years, but he'd learned the subtle signs. He could hear the hesitation, the powers stalling to commit to a decision already made.

" _Then what motivation do we have to grant your-"_

" _-_ _T_ _heir-"_

" _-_ _H_ _er_ _-"_

" _-R_ _equest?"_

"You want absolute elimination of risk? You, the beings which can see through the fabric of reality. Who observe the multiverse before it unfolds and every dimensions layered within. You want proof that you know I cannot provide?"

" _For such a risk?"_

" _Unquestionably."_

" _Her place will remain until that is satisfied._ _"_

" _We do not subject our champions to such-"_

" _-Torture-"_

" _-Without cause."_

" _She has earned her peace if any truly have."_

Whistler let a smug smile cross his lips "And yet, who else is there?"

 **Sunnydale, California – St. Mary's Cemetery**

 _Cold._

 _Why was is it so cold_ _?_

 _Why was she feeling cold at all_ _?_ _What had happened to the warmth?_

 _Burning._

 _Why was her chest burning? What had happened to the comfort and peace?_

Buffy sucked in a gasp of breath, filling her lungs with stale musty air. It soothed the burning in her chest. But only for a instant before the burning returned. She sucked in another breath to relieve the pain. The movement of her ribs causing too much feeling as bones and cartilage moved. Her head felt light, spinning, overwhelmed by the sensations flooding her mind.

She opened her eyes to stop the spin, but there was nothing. No light, nothing to see but darkness. Her eyes burned, each instinctive blink hurting more than the last. Causing more pain as she laid still, moving only enough to take in another shallow breath. Anything to keep away the pain burning in her chest.

 _Hands._

 _Feet._

There was more to her than just a head and chest she realized. Excruciating sensation beginning to return to those parts of her body. It wasn't just feeling to her extremities that was returning, it was the feeling of the surface of her entire body.

No longer just the cold, the burning of her chest, it was … everything. The feel of fabric grating on her skin, the pressure of her weight against her back.

 _Too much feeling._

 _Too much pain._

 _Too much everything._

She let out a raspy whimper, knowing somehow it should make things better. It didn't.

 _Noise._

Her ears registered the sound she had made, sending yet more information to her overwhelmed brain. She tried to focus on the sounds, attempting to block out the trillions of sensations overwhelming her.

Thump, Thump, Thump.

She listened curiously, focusing on the noise. The noise coming from her chest, the burning again returning to her chest. No, not her chest.

 _Lungs._

She took in another breath, deeper than before, listening as she heard the noise of her breath. Her breath starting to form a rhythm, not allowing the burning to return. Anything to keep away the burn.

 _Where am I?_

Her memory filling with flashes of warmth, happiness, the safe place where she no longer was. But that was it, try as she might there was simply nothing more to be revealed. Everything before all encompassing contentment and comfort simply a blank void of nothingness.

A tear began to flow down her cheek, warm for only an instant before it to turned cold. Flowing along its path along gravity's pull towards the back of her neck.

 _Down … it flowed down. The opposite was up._

"W..." she tried to ask anyone that would help. Her throat too dry as it too now burned. A burn breathing couldn't fix. She tried to swallow, but there was nothing but more pain to be found.

As more feeling screamed into her mind she realized she was surrounded.

 _Surrounded by what?_

Lifting her hands took an exhausting effort, forcefully commanding them to begin searching around causing more pain, more feeling. Her shoulders and elbows screamed only to be silenced as flesh met something solid. Her hands on fire with horrid sensation matching her back and anywhere her skin was touched.

Panic began to creep into the back of her mind as she become aware of just how surrounded she really was. A padded box no bigger than she was. No room to move, no room to shift, no room to think or breath or scream. The panic grew, taking over any rational thought.

 _Oh God!_

She knew where she was. The plush surroundings, the tight space.

 _A coffin_

The terrifying knowledge came from somewhere and nowhere all at once. Her memory still a void beyond what she had just lost.

Panicking, she slammed her fist forward, smashing through the lid of her private hell.

She felt a new pain shoot through her hand. Sharper, more intense. Pain more severe than the pain of moving or feeling, the pain of her lungs burning. She let out a strangled yelp, quickly withdraw her hand causing even more pain. Something rained down on her, something cold, pieces of something solid. The smell in the box changed.

 _Earth._

 _Dirt._

 _Buried._

Her panic grew, overriding the need to avoid the pain as she thrashed inside of her box.

 _How deep?_

 _How long?_

 _Where?_

The hazy questions flooded her mind only to be drowned by the panic forcing her to punch the roof again. Pain exploding through her hand once more. The outside of her hand becoming warm and slick, something oozing across its surface. The smell in the box shifted again as a new flavor was added.

 _Blood._

The dirt rained down on her chest again as she withdrew her blood covered fist. The pebbles starting to cover her chest and flow into the opening of her dress. The grating between her skin and it's prison worsened as the grit settled in with each breath needed to keep the burning in her lungs at bay.

More dirt rained down, spilling off the side of her chest and making her arm harder to move. Made her box just a little bit smaller. Rational thought was gone, panic taking a firm hold as she began punching her box again.

 _Up._

 _Up._

 _Up._

The only thought that registered as she reacted on instinct.

 _Need to go up._

Punching and scraping a new sensation of pain was discovered as a fingernail was ripped off. The panic causing the new pain to be lost into the background as she wriggled in her box using her hands to shove the dirt towards her feet. Something covered her feet, something solid barley flexible, painful.

 _Shoes._

 _Not needed._

She pushed them off without though, allowing her feet to help compact the dirt at the base of her hellish box. Working at a fevered rate the heart beat in her ears now a thunderous pace too fast to process. Her breaths were fast and shallow but not fast enough to keep the burning away.

 _Air, only so much air._

Her panic worsened, continuing her work uncaring as more nails and flesh were ripped from her hands. Ignoring the horrid feeling of rough dirt scraping against the hyper sensitive skin of her breasts.

She leaned upwards, finally having broken a large enough hole. Her eyes clenched tightly closed as the dirt fell all around her, her small box rapidly shrinking. Pain was lost in the panic. Only up mattered. Pulling her legs to her butt she pushed through the dirt. Scraping, ripping and hammering at anything that got in her way. Screaming to what little extent her dried throat would allow, dirt slipping into her throat and lungs.

Her hand broke, free from the clutches of the dirt surrounding her. She pushed and pulled upwards, her hand gripping the surface of the soft wet earth above. Kicking, screaming and pulling until finally her head emerged. Her burning lungs filling with air. But, it was too was tainted, the coppery tang of blood heavy in the air. She pulled herself free of the earth, collapsing on slimy dirt before passing out.


	6. Chapter 6 - Slaying 101

**Chapter 6 - Slaying 101**

 **June 5th, 2001 – 1215 Hours**

 **PAST - 3 DAYS AFTER BUFFY'S DEATH**

 **Sunnydale, California – Sunnydale Economy Motel**

Hank squashed another cockroach, his shoe in hand providing the audible crunch confirming the kill. This place was … awful. He regretted the decision to find solace in dreary accommodations which suited nothing but his mood. A pitiful attempt to punish himself for allowing such horrible things to happen to what was left of his family.

Joyce, no matter how much she made his blood boil, was at heart a good person. She didn't deserve to die. And Buffy, though their relationship had struggled and frayed over the years, shouldn't have been thrust into the motherly role she was far from suited for. Maybe her death was a grim blessing in disguise.

He'd spent the majority of the morning making phone calls. Digging up any information that confirmed what Mr. Giles had told him. His only sound conclusion, that Joyce had indeed died of a brain aneurysm.

He'd sent some papers - provided by Mr. Giles - to his lawyer. He wanted an expert to take a look at Dawn's custody. And, although Trisha seemed baffled at how such documents had been authorized, she seemed to agree that everything was in order. That having it overturned would be a long and drawn out, with no guarantee of success. In any case Dawn was almost sixteen, old enough that her wishes would hold weight in any final decision. The bruise just below his ribs was a testament of exactly what she would say.

 _When the hell did she learn to hit like that?_

He probed the tender, now purplish area. Dawn was so slender and lanky, it was unbelievable, the force which had knocked the wind from his lungs. Not something that one could simply do on a whim. Not a fifteen year old girl at any rate. Given Buffy's transition into a law breaking delinquent, it seemed to confirm his fears that Buffy had already begun corrupting her sister, pulling her along into the abyss. Ironic, that Buffy could cause him even more pain from beyond the grave.

 _Almost beyond the grave_ He corrected.

Tying his shoes he grabbed his bag and his keys, glad to leave the roach pit behind. He needed to swing by the site he'd located last night, take some daylight photos before finding a suit in short order. He may not be welcome, but he wouldn't miss his own daughters funeral. Even if he had to watch from a distance.

 **Sunnydale, California – Resting Meadows Cemetery**

Hank watched from a short distance as the small group of mourners dispersed into the night. Though the timing was odd, the blackness of night seemed to suit his mood. A fitting way to mark the end of a once brilliant and shiny girl. The finish line of her drift towards darkness finally reached in every way.

He'd attempted to join the funeral before being unsurprisingly cut off by a furious Dawn. Her tirade of curses and shouts only stopped when a dark haired young man restrained her with some effort. Mr. Giles had quickly grabbed his arm, wordlessly guiding him away with cold eyes giving no room for negotiation. He wasn't wanted here, nothing said would change that. Buffy's lies and delusions, Joyce's grudges, had tainted the view of everyone. He knew he'd earned some of it, but he loved his daughters.

Though not content with the arrangement, there was nothing to be gained from approaching from the place where he'd been directed. It was a healthy distance, but he could still pick out the words the reverend spoke. It took only minutes for his eyes to fill with tears as the finality of his child's death struck home. The occasional glare from Dawn only twisting the knife. He'd always assumed he wouldn't outlive his children, that they would bury him. It was an assumption every parent had, but he'd been so sure. His work could be dangerous, and he was far from young.

As the group dispersed Mr. Giles approached him again. Giving a smile so forced it hardly seemed worth the effort to Hank. "If you would like to say your goodbye's, now would be the time."

Hank looked at the man with defeated eyes "How do you say goodbye to someone you can't believe is gone?"

… … … "I'd like to know that myself." With that he turned, slipping away towards Buffy's friends gathering nearby.

"What … what was she like? The last few years?"

Giles turned, giving a thin smile "Like nothing the world had ever seen before. You would have been proud. Just as I was." With that the man walked into the night, not looking back.

Hank steeled himself, approaching his daughter's coffin warily. The experience was still so surreal. His eyes drifted over neat lines of polished wood stopping at the silver clasps his eyes seemed to fixate on. There had been no service other than what he'd just witnessed. No display of the body that was customary. He needed to know. Needed to she her with his own eyes.

With a quick glance over his shoulder he snapped open the clasps, opening the upper half of the lid. Strangely, it wasn't as horrifying as he'd expected. Perhaps his shock was so severe that he couldn't process what he was seeing. Her slim figure, fitted into a white dress so well it almost made her look alive. The flowing golden hair that someone had taken great pains to brush and prepare inlaid with small flowers placed within the strands. Somehow 'hit by a bus' just didn't match the serene face of his eldest daughter. The only indication of her tragic end, a few cuts on her cheek to deep to be covered.

He was too late. He'd given up his nomadic lifestyle, dug himself out of a world of black operations, ghosts, and lies. His assignment to the SGC was supposed to pave the way to repairing his family. Now, no family remained to repair, none that wanted him anyway.

With no work to be found to distract him the thought was the last blow his will could take. Collapsing to his knees he cursed the heavens using every swear word he could think of, going so far as to let a few lose he'd learned from SGC reports. He begged and pleaded to have his little girl back, pleaded to anyone who was listening to no avail. Glad for his solitude as he crumpled to the ground, ruining the suit he'd purchased just earlier today.

 **Sunnydale, California – 1630 Revello Drive**

Dawn laid on her bed, her eyes tracking the tips of the blade of the ceiling fan as it circled at a lazy pace. Even without the lights, the glow from the street was more than enough to make out the details. Her mind still fascinated at the effectiveness of her new night vision.

 _Everything is so different now._

She'd been a slayer for three horrible days now and she was still adjusting to the changes. Her eyes drifted from the fan, effortlessly making out subtle details of cobwebs stuck to the ceiling. She hadn't bothered with the lights when she'd entered, she didn't need them anymore, her eyes seeing through the near perfect darkness in crisp shades of gray. She wondered what other changes she should expect.

 _You'd think after having a slayer for a sister for years I'd know these things._

Gritting her teeth she covered her ears, desperately trying to block out the sounds from the living room downstairs. The distant noise of Willow's moans and sobs as the witches buried their grief in sex. The sound amplified to an disturbingly detailed level by yet another of her newly enhanced senses.

 _My god, Is why Buffy always sat outside on the porch._

Shocked at the horrifying thoughts of what her sister had overheard in the past she sat up, swinging herself off the bed and standing. Removing the black funeral dress she had worn, gently hanging the dress back in it's rightful place as the tears trickled down her ruined face. It was the second time she'd worn that dress, and now, she hated it more than ever. Glaring at the simple assembly of dark fabric, watching as the swaying movement slowly came to an end.

The instant it did she reached out, gripping the fabric with both hands and ripping it in half with ease, then again, and again. Tearing it over and over, the pieces disappearing into smaller and smaller fragments falling to the floor finally escaping her wrath.

Everyone she loved was gone, she had nothing left, nothing but an anger that refused to leave, fueled by something dark inside where the Slayer had made a home. She glared at the small pile of tattered rags now covering the floor, fighting thoughts of the past few days as they circled through her mind.

Giles had tried to speak to her. Over and over he'd tried only to be firmly rejected each time by the door she now hid behind. He'd explained anyway, talking through the door knowing she could easily hear. Explaining her new attributes, the training he'd scheduled before her sisters body was even in the ground. This was the man Buffy had chosen as her new 'daddy'. So insensitive to the magnitude of her loss that he was already trying to turn her into Buffy 2.0. Her mood soured even more when Hank had decided that, after years of silence, this was the week to make a surprise visit.

 _What a surprise he got._

She managed a half crazed chuckle, remembering the shock written on his face. It didn't ease the pain, but somehow just knowing the man who'd abandoned them had been blindsided helped in some small way. She prayed he was suffering even a fraction of what she felt, a glimmer of the retribution he justly deserved. But it wasn't enough, if would never be enough. Her face burned in anger as she remember her father intruded in today's family matters. A family that as far as she was concerned, no longer included him.

Dawn moved to her dresser, trying to decide what best to cover herself with. Everything her eyes found just reminded her of the little sister she used to be. Her face burning hotter as more thoughts of her father refused to leave her mind. Her anger finally reached its breaking point, boiling over the edges of her control. The wooden drawer in her hands exploded into splinters. Dawn left the room before the remnants even hit the ground. Storming through the hall wearing nothing but underwear as she turned the corner into Buffy's room.

She didn't need the light but it still make things easier, the colors brighter. Opening the doors to Buffy's closet she quickly pulled out a pair of leather pants followed by one of Buffy's favorite tops. In moments she's slipped them on, pausing briefly to look herself over in the mirror sitting on Buffy's desk. Grinning as she lifted Mr. Pointy's leather holster from the chair.

She slipped the stake from its home, holding the precious sliver of sharpened wood, studying its every detail. The stake her sister revered above all others in some unnatural obsession. She'd seen this stake hundreds of times but never before had she noticed the small 'K' carved near the base.

 _Kendra_

She remembered her one and only encounter with the courteous yet abrupt slayer called after Buffy's first encounter with death. That simple little letter answering so many question her sister would never answer. Buffy's need for vengeance against the evil that had killed her friend a way for her sister to cope with the loss. Using the late slayers own stake to avenge her death a thousand fold.

Dawn slid into the wooden chair, gazing at the tear streaked face that looked back. Just another small piece of Buffy's life she'd taken for granted. Her mind wandered, wondering how many times Buffy had sat in this chair and watched in the mirror as her own tears fell. How many times had her sister sat and pondered what it all meant before slipping into the night to perform her under appreciated service to the world. Her eyes meandered across the desk before being caught by a slightly opened drawer. Curiosity won out as she pulled it open. The lockable drawer one she'd never seen adjar before.

What she found stole her breathe as tried to understand. Her hands pulling pill bottles by the dozens out of the drawer. She'd recognized a few of the labels, but her pharmaceutical knowledge hardly mattered. Pills of all different flavors, each with a different prescribing doctor, most, not even prescribed to Buffy at all. Just 'Antidepressant' written in Giles neat handwriting on the side, another with 'Steroids', others with 'Adrenaline', 'Sleeping Pills', 'Painkillers'. She shook her head, her mouth held open in shock as she realized not a single date on any bottle was more than a few weeks old. Of the nearly two dozen different pill bottles she'd found only one had actually been prescribed to her sister. She read the description on the bottle, simply labeled 'Adrenaline', Count: 100. It was empty, the lid still loose in the drawer.

 _Was this what her sister had resorted to?_

The only way to ensure she was on the winning side of a battle with Glory? Even for the resilient body of a slayer, this was extreme. Her sister so strung out and stressed that she'd resorted to pharmaceuticals to keep the pieces of her life from falling apart. How much of this had been her own fault? A way to combat the stress heaped on her sister's shoulders with the loss of their mother while a hell god was on the loose, intent of using her blood like a locksmith for the universe.

She found her mind racing with question that had no answers. None that were any less horrifying than the conclusions already filling her mind. She shoved the bottles back in the drawer closing it all the way and wishing she had the key to lock this secret away from prying eyes. Buffy died a hero. It wouldn't do anyone any good to know they'd all leaned so hard on her sister that she was holding herself together by a hair.

She shook her head, standing so she could fastened the holster around her waist. Replacing Mr. Pointy in its sheath at the small of her back. Sliding into Buffy's favorite leather jacket she climbed out the window. Still angry beyond words, knowing that staying home listening to lesbian sex was only going to result in more damaged furniture. She managed a thin smile as she leapt the distance to the ground, landing painlessly on her feet.

 _I could get used to being a slayer._

Without pause she headed into the night looking for her first kill. Something to bury her rage into until none remained. So focused on her task she never noticed the dark figure trailing her at a distance.

 **Sunnydale, California – The Bronze**

Simon slammed the remnants of his drink finding it just as unremarkable as the college girls giving him another glance of wanting eyes. He hated this place, the atmosphere, the crowd, the music, he hated everything. Almost everything. He paid his bill, taking another sweep around the edges of the dance floor, finding none among the crowd catching his lust. Resigned at his prospects, he faded out of the crowd, heading towards the exit. He'd nearly reached the heavy door when a young blonde stepped in his path. A silly looking thing, young, the stain of life not yet having left it's prints in her glassy brown eyes.

"You weren't leaving without buying me a drink were you?" The girl said smiling, pouring on the charm as best she could through her drunken haze. Her eyes, unfocused, looking past him into the background. Too far gone to decide which of the identical figures she was seeing was actually him.

Simon recoiled when the overpowering scent of tequila slammed into his nose. The very reason he'd passed earlier. Drunk girls held too little challenge to be of interest. His eyes passing over her nubile body with the appreciation of a male's intent. Estimating her age far below the legal limit to be a walking distilerary.

"Sorry, not my type." He replied, shoving past only for her hand to forcefully press against his cock. Another pulling on the bottom of her shirt causing more of her cleavage to spill through the edge of her top. "Reeeeally?" She teased.

Simon sighed before checking his watch. It was late, for a human. And soon the blood bags would be finding their way into the safety of their homes. He ran his eyes over her body once more and shrugged. Tilting his head towards the bathrooms down the hall suggestively. "I've got a few minutes."

She smirked with a smug confidence, grabbing his hand pulling him down the hallway. Her hair flicking through the air when she turned her head to catch another glance. A eager smile of anticipation crossing her face as she licked her lips. "Cold hands."

 **Sunnydale, California – Near The Bronze**

"I never knew is was this hard to find a freakin vampire!" Dawn yelled in frustration, kicking an unfortunate can down the sidewalk in protest. It had been an hour since she'd left her home and still, nothing. Trudging along, huffing in ever increasing anger with each breath she turned towards the bronze. She knew Buffy often visited the club during her patrols, it made sense, vampires, teenage nightlife, surely there was one there.

Simon slipped from the bathroom, glad there'd had been no further interruptions.

 _A good lay and a snack, not so bad after all._

On autopilot, he quickly found his way out of the Bronze and into the blackness of night. Clearing the club long before he head the screaming start. He was still eager to find something … more … this night. The blonde had been a good warm up but far too scrawny to leave him satiated.

It hadn't taken long, only a block from the bronze and he'd found another to finish the night. Young, tender, nubile, she smelled so … delicious. Feeling a tinge of awareness, his head swiveled, checking for the blonde hair of the current slayer but finding none. He knew she was around here somewhere. He'd lived in Sunnydale for over twenty years now, since the day he was sired. He'd learned quickly to avoid the slayer when she'd rode into town stakes and dust flying. After a near miss that claimed his sire he wanted nothing to do with the bitch, his unlife depended on it.

He angled his path to put him on a collision course with the girl, unconsciously licking his lips. A quick bite as he walked by then high tail it back to safety and away from the slayer.

Dawn watched as the stranger approaching aimed just a bit more towards her. A move so subtle she didn't think twice about it. Just a man getting off the street on his way home. She closed the distance, walking past him with a wary eye, relieved when he cleared her preferentials but fighting the shiver that ran down her spine.

 _Wait, was that a-_

She wasn't able to finish her thought as a strong hand gripped the back of her neck like a vice. Another wrapping around the front of her body crushing her into his chest. She tried to buck, to wriggle and twist, but his position gave him control. Panic instantly crept into her veins. She tried to think, tried to react, tried to scream, but the fear was absolute, paralyzing, as as she felt a cool breath across the side of her neck.

Just as quickly as it started, it was over. His iron grip released into the familiar smell of vampire dust wafted to her nose.

"What the hell do you think your doing 'lil bit?!"

"Spike? Oh thank god" She replied, shaking as she turned to see her savior covered head to toe in black. His leather duster blowing in the wind busily sweeping away the remnants of her would be killer.

"Those don't belong to you." Spike said in a somber voice as he studied her very Buffy-ish outfit. One he'd seen before he realized when the smell radiating off the cloths hit his nose with painful force. Dawn had always smelled a bit like Buffy, but now, it was almost indistinguishable. The scent bringing back flashes of memories he'd rather drink into oblivion.

Something about how the monks had done it, created Dawn using a part of Buffy in the process. Before, there had always been enough difference to tell them apart. But tonight, a slayer, wearing clothes that once belonged to the blonde slayer he loved. There was nothing, vanilla, sunshine, and honey, the scent of the Buffy that drove vampires wild and lured many to their deaths. Bait. Trap. Executioner, all in one. And now, the scent of Dawn.

"I … I'm sorry" Dawn replied nervously, her eyes staring at the ground in shame. "I just needed to leave the house."

"Nearly lost you just there. Already broke my promise once." Spike said somberly "Don't make me do it again."

"Promise?"

"The one I gave your sister, to keep you safe before our big throw down with the hell bitch." Spike spat as memories refused to be repressed.

"I … I didn't know"

"I know you didn't. She wouldn't want you to. Wanted you to be safe, to feel safe, wanted you and mum far away from her world." Spike replied as he wrapped an arm gently around Dawn's still shaking frame.

"Mmmmmm" Dawn murmured, burying her face in the side of his chest. Taking in the scent of smoke and leather, the unique calling card of Spike that lingered long after he was gone.

"Guess there's no helping it now though is there. It's your world whether you wanted it or not." Spike focused his eyes on a point far away, forcing the threatening tears to stay buried as his mind wandered with thoughts of the older Summer's sister, and then the younger. "Just like it was for her."

… … …

"So what, figured you'd come take out the nasties just like big sis?"

"Ummm … yeah … pretty much." Her anger had disappeared with the vampire ash behind them. Her mood easing into contentment as she snuggled into spike letting him lead in whatever direction he chose.

"Figures." he scoffed "Just dive in face first without checking the water. Reckless, just like her. Only you haven't been doing this for years like she had. Your a baby slayer, don't know up from down, what is and aint." Spike paused to let his words sink in, caring compassion masking the burning anger he felt rising at her moment of foolishness.

"Check. Nearly died, lesson learned."

"Not hardly." Spike growled, letting a hint of his frustration show through "You gonna act the part, you gotta learn the moves, learn the dance."

"Buffy did like her dancing" Dawn replied smiling as she thought of all the times she'd heard her mother scolding Buffy about how late she'd been out at the Bronze. Though, in hindsight, she'd probably been beating back the forces of evil, or maybe it was still dancing.

"Not that kind of dancing love. You ever watch your sis fight before?"

"Of course I have, comes with having a slayer for a sister. Well, that and being a mystical glowey key thing, and a vampire magnet."

"Yeah, and what did you see?" Spike challenged

"I dunno I guess, strength, speed?" Dawn replied rubbing her eyes to keep away the tears threatening to emerge.

"Then your missed all the best parts. All slayers are fast and strong."

"Spike, where are we going?"

"Trust me?"

"I guess … If you wanted me dead I would have been a few minutes ago. How come your being still being all loyal. Buffy's … your a vampire."

"I owe it to her. She was … I don't bloody know what she was, she was Buffy" Spike froze up for a moment at his own words as he tried to truly think about how he'd felt about The Slayer "An Equal."

"She seemed to respect you … at the end."

He nodded "Probably too damaged to love me, after all she's went through. But she might have, one day. But she treated me like a man." Spike broke their embrace as his voice hardened. "We're here."

"Okay, it's a cemetery, big deal. Now what?" Dawn replied with a hint of annoyance.

"Now you learn." Spike replied gesturing towards a fresh grave.

"Oh!" She beamed excited as the thought of a helpless vampire crawling up from the dirt "Maybe I can actually get this one!"

Spike chuckled "Oh no. You're not going to stake him" Spike instructed as he snatched Mr. Pointy from Dawn's hand, already poised to strike. "You're gonna survive."

"Ummm, survive? I thought we stake vampires … non-friendly vampires?" She clarified.

"We do, we're not really here to stake vampires. We're here so you can learn how not to die. But this time, with someone a bit closer to your skill level." Spike replied as a hand shot through the fresh dirt of a grave "Right on time" Spike grinned, grabbing the hand and pulling the vampire from the ground.

"Thanks. Fucking root." The eager new vampire grumbled.

"Don't mention it." Spike replied, pointing the fledgling at Dawn "Hey look, a tasty virgin. All yours."

"Spike!" Dawn yelped, her face turning a bright shade of red.

"What, true 'init. Don't trip!" Spike replied with a small chuckle.

Dawn growled in annoyance, struggling to keep her distance from the eager vampire, visually drooling at the prospect of her blood. At least she hoped it was the thought of her blood she thought with a shudder.

"I'll just be over here with the stake." Spike replied, sitting on a nearby headstone casually lighting a cigarette.

 _Okay, you can do this Dawn. Just keep your distance_

She jumped to the side, dodging the first attempt to grab hold of her.

"Quit being a wimp!"

"Seriously? I thought I was trying **not** to die?" Dawn shouted, frustrated.

"You are, but running away, isn't part of the lesson." Spike instructed, keeping watchful eye over his charge.

Dawn finally threw a punch, hitting the vampire with a 'crunch' of nasal cartilage.

 _No reason I can't hit back_

The blow changed the dynamic in an instant, from catch and eat, to fight and kill. The vampire now lashing out in turn landing a punch square in her chest knocking the wind from her lungs.

She dodged the next set of punches, sidestepping neatly as she struggled to regain her breath. Unfortunately, the vampire seemed to be learning how to fight just as fast as she was, dodging just as quickly as her.

Spike watched with a sharp eye as baby slayer and fledgling clashed, each trying to find the better of their opponent. She was a pale imitation of her sister, the comparison laughable. But Buffy had been a slayer for years, even before he'd first had a go. Dawn, however, was starting at exactly zero.

Unsurprisingly, she seemed stronger than the fledge. But slower than she should be, wary, hesitant as she made up her technique on the spot. Complete with clunky moves, and telegraphed strikes. Fortunately, the vampire wasn't much better.

He shrugged, figuring a blank slate was better than one already tainted. "Lead, don't follow. You need him reacting to you, not the other way around."

"How can I do that. I don't … have a stake to … kill him with." Dawn all but screamed in frustration between moves.

"Just cause you don't have a stake? What the hell are you gonna do when you get jumped by a group of vamps and theirs not a stake in sight?" Spike pointed out.

Spike instructions resulted in a moment of distraction. A fist catching her jaw as she stepped back just a bit too short to dodge the hit. Dazed for an instant she paused before lashing out in anger. A few of her wild throws managing to find their targets.

He watched with with a keen gaze as the girl became frustrated, taking her emotions and grief out on the vampire as her reservations faded. It was only an instant, but easy to see with a well trained eye, a few blows traded back and forth mixed with dodges and clunky blocks. It wasn't refined, but in it's own way, it was still beautiful to watch. "Good, kill him."

Dawn was so confused "What, **now** I get … to kill him? How exactly … am I going … to do … that. I need my … stake back" Dawn cursed between deep breaths, not sure how to accomplish her new task now that she had apparently passed Spikes unknown challenge.

"This isn't your stake, haven't earned it. You telling me you never saw Buffy kill a vamp without a stake. I've probably seen her do it a dozen different ways and you can't come up with just one. Get creative" Spike snickered.

"Ugggghhhh" Dawn groaned searching her surroundings desperately for anything she could use. She smiled as she caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of her eye.

"Did I pass your stupid test?" Dawn snarled, throwing the shovel to the ground as she wiped off the dust.

"Not even close. But you survived" Spike grinned.

"This is ridiculous. You call this teaching me to fight?"

"Could be worse. Buffy told me her first watcher just gave her a stake, walked her into a graveyard, and said 'Good luck' before walking off. No explanation about what was about to happen, nothing. Just figure it out or die. At least you knew what was coming. She'd never even seen a vampire before then."

"I … I didn't know. She never talked about it. Never really talked about any of it with me."

Spike put his arm around Dawn "Didn't want you to worry bit. Didn't want you to know how dangerous it all is. As far as slayers go your sis was ancient, lasted a long damn time. It's not normally like that."

Dawn shrugged "Giles keeps trying to talk to me about training or whatever."

"Well, you bloody well need it. He's just worried bout you. Doesn't want you to be unprepared. Doesn't want something like tonight to happen to you. You'd already be dead if it wasn't for me. You'd have lasted a whole three days as a slayer. Sobering thought init. "

Dawn conceded his point, it was terrifying realization she didn't want to dwell on "Can we hang out at your crypt for a while. Don't really want to go home yet. I kinda trashed my room." Dawn pleaded, nuzzling back into the familiar safety of smoke and leather.

"No! Wicca's are gonna be worried sick if they figure out your not home. Now **get**!" Spike ordered, pointing towards her home which they'd apparently meandered towards without her realizing.

Dawn paused for a second ready to argue, but his icy glare left little room for question. She did as commanded, briskly walking to the front door before slipping inside. Memories of her close call earlier still freshly seared into her mind. Too distracted by her own thoughts to notice the looming shadow in the distance retaking it's post.

 **Sunnydale, California – Giles's Apartment**

"Who the bloody hell is knocking on my door at three in the morning!? Giles fumed ripping open the door, axe tightly in hand. "Oh, it's you."

"Yeah" Spike grunted, striding into the house without a care.

"What the hell do you want?" Giles grumbled, strung out from an exhausting week and the disturbance of his disparately needed sleep.

"Bit went for a walk about tonight, tried to get herself eaten." Spike replied sadly as he sank into the couch.

"Dear lord. Is she alright?"

"Fine, got jumped by a vamp. Don't think she can sense them very well, not like … not like she could" Spike explained trying to keep a blank face.

"Buffy has told me that the hellmouth makes it difficult to sense anything. The hellmouth makes some form of constant background noise she had to learn to filter through."

"I could sense her just fine, both of them"

"Your evil. Easy to sense good when your surrounded by evil. Harder to filter out evil in a sea of evil." Giles pointed out.

"How'd she always find them then."

Giles let out a sad chuckle as he reminisced about his slayer "Oddly enough through the way they dressed" He shrugged. "It worked so bloody well, I didn't argue."

"Figures the chit would use clothes as a weapon. Wonder how many my kind been done in just cause they picked the wrong shirt?"

"If the numbers she reported were accurate … a great many. So, Dawn's begun trying to fill her sisters shoes. Only a matter of time I suppose. I wish she would have talked to me first. I've been trying to sit down with since … but she just runs off to her room." Giles let out a sigh, it was like learning how to deal with Buffy all over again except worse in nearly every way "The vampire she ran into, old?" Giles inquired

"Old enough. Blood on his breath, he was probably feeling pretty strong. Mostly, he just got the jump on her."

"I see. I know she's got a lot on her mind but … "

"But fights never happen when your ready for em. I agree Rupes. Took her to the graveyard, found her a fledge." Spike shrugged "Took away her stake."

Giles shot up from his slumped position "You did what?!"

"Relax. I'd have never let her get killed. She needed something more her level."

"I see, at least it's some experience. How … how …"

"How did she do? Compare? She's not … she's not her. She may never be as good. How many slayers have ever fought as well as … as well as Buffy? Not many I'd reckon, if any. Potentials there, raw, but it's there. She still sees it as fighting, clinical, force and power. Not … "

"Not like … like Buffy. Graceful, flowing … " Giles spoke as his mind went elsewhere.

"Like Dancing" Spike filled in.

"Dancing" Giles spoke with a small of a chuckle. "It seems to fit so well."

"She made it artwork Rupes." Spike agreed "Bit's got it to, saw it … just for a second."

"I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. She is her sister after all."

"Cut the crap Rupes, I can smell her. Now that she's a slayer they're … it's the same."

"So … erm. What are we going to do for training?"

"Dunno, but if bits gonna be going on nightly walkabouts she needs to learn, and fast. Hellmouth isn't the place for a baby slayer. Always some new bad looking to move in. A few 'l come looking for big sis just for the fame of taking out the legend. Those are the ones I'm worried about." Spike sighed, grimacing at the thought.

"Like you?" Giles pointed out.

"Like me" Spike agreed "You know I'd never hurt her. Not after I promised …"

"I get it. I'd rather have you with us. Imagine what a slayer trained by William the Bloody would be capable of. Don't get me wrong, I'm proud of how far Buffy came. But it's hard to train someone with superhuman strength when your … "

"Old?"

"At least I was born in this century."

"Point. I'll talk to her tomorrow. See what she wants to do. I'll be damned if she gets saddled with the gig if she doesn't want it. Council of wankers can break Faith outa Jail or off the bitch if they want their very own slayer."

"They'll still want to influence her" Giles pointed out.

"You tell em I'll eat any watcher they send."

"Chip?"

"You really think that would stop me? It's just gotta be worth the pain. Killing to feed … isn't. 'Sides, she wouldn't want me to."

"Which She?"

"I'm outta here watcher. Evil things to do and all." Spike headed towards the door. Finally pausing as he crossed the threshold "Both" he whispered, slipping into the night.


	7. Chapter 7 - Welcome To Hell

**Chapter 7 - Welcome To Hell**

 **AUGUST 25** **th** **, 2001 – 2220 Hours**

 **PRESENT – 0 MINUTES AFTER BUFFY'S RESURRECTION**

 **Sunnydale, California – Outside of Sunnydale Regional Hospital**

Dawn ran, panting as she carried Xander's unconscious weight in her arms. She grimaced as she chanced a look down at the still bleeding stump where his hand once was. The entrance to safety now only meters away. She shivered, she could still sense them, the minions of The Immortal edging towards their group, working in packs hunting them down.

The air thickening spell Willow had cast with the last of her energy had bought them the window to escape. But one quick look at Willow's face as they fled, and there was no doubt her magic was spent for the night.

A chill ran down her spine as the screeching noise of nails scraping across a chalkboard filled her ears. The call of a minion behind them summoning its brethren. She had no idea how they'd known to ambush them in the graveyard. How the Immortal could have possibly foreseen their move and countered at such a perfectly inopportune moment.

 _Just a few more steps._

Her arms were burning, tired from hefting Xander's weight half way across town. Relieved that in mere seconds they would be safe. A place where she could wash the blood off her body. She'd never been so glad for Sunnydale syndrome than in this moment. Horrified at the thought of having to provide a reasonable explanation as to why a one-hundred pound girl, in her underwear, covered in blood, was running with a two-hundred plus pound man in her arms at speeds Willow and Anya could just barely match.

She took the final step across the threshold, her head spinning, arms and legs growing weak. She faltered, both her and Xander crashing to the polished white floor, skidding, leaving a trail of red smear behind.

Seconds later doctors and nurses were swarming. Most paying attention to her rather than the actually wounded patient still lying on the floor. Each one trying to find the source of all the blood which coated her. She shoving a palm forcefully into a nameless white coat hovering above her. Her eyes widening as the man barely registered the push. Grabbing her wrist and moving it aside, resuming his hunt for the mystery wound alluding him. The only wound on her body to find ironically gripped in his hand.

A fit of Dawn style screaming later, one sure to peel the paint from the walls, and they'd finally backed off, diverting their attention to obviously injured, handless, Xander.

She managed to stand on shaky feet, feeling heavy and slow. Surprised the spell had taken so much out of her, that it hadn't taken effect until now.

"Are you okay?" Willow panted.

Dawn shook off the daze from the fall "Yeah i'm … I'm fine."

Twenty minutes later she was refreshingly clean, hair still dripping, clad in a set of 'borrowed' hospital scrubs, baggy and oversized for her lithe frame. She pushed another door open with far too much exertion. Biting down the worry that their spell had somehow damaged her inner slayer. Unnerved at the vulnerability she felt in her weakened state. She could still sense a tinge of the hellmouth's evil buzz, the minions milling about outside, she was still a slayer. Buffy had lost her powers once and they'd come back.

 _They'd come back._

"Giles, thank god you're here!" Dawn picked up the pace of her trot when the group came into view. Ramming into him and wrapping her appointed father figure in a hug.

Willow barely slowed her breathless explanation at Dawn's appearance. Lies upon lies flowing flawlessly from her mouth. Dawn's wide eyes landed on the redhead, shocked at how seamless the story was. Patrolling as a group, minions, Xander hurt, hospital. Truth's interwoven into the lies, the best way to convincingly twist - or in this case shatter - the truth.

"Yes, I'm very glad your all okay." Giles manages a thin smile "Mostly." His eyes traveled down to Dawn finally releasing the hug. "Are you feeling alright?"

"Yeah, just tired. Why?"

"Well, you seemed, weaker. You're not injured? I was told you were covered in quite a lot of blood?"

"Xanders. I … I had to wash it off."

"But your unharmed? I need to know Dawn. If your injured and I'm unaware there could be disastrous results."

"I'm fine Giles" she managed a grim smile. "How's Xander?"

"Still in surgery and will be for some time. I'm afraid this won't be an injury he'll ever fully recover from." Giles sighed.

"No! Really?! I hadn't figured that out Rupert!" Anya spat as she paced nervously at the edge of the group.

"It'll be okay Anya" Willow soothed, reaching out with a hand only to be shrugged off.

"I don't want your pity." Anya narrowed her eyes at Willow "I want Xander, all of Xander, with all of his Xander parts in the right Xander places." She choked the last few words as a tears finally managed to slip from her eyes. The calm outer shell followed giving way to wracking sobs.

"He'll live Anya" Willow soothed. Wrapping the sobbing woman in her arms. A small folded paper falling from a pocket on her shirt.

Tara managed a grim smile reaching over instinctively to pick it up. "You d...dropped … … … this" Her final words fell flat, frowning as she caught a few drops of blood on the paper falling from an otherwise clean pocket. Her eyes looking it over curiously, then narrowed. Her hands beginning to tremble, her eyes taking in more and more details as each fold was undone.

"Willow." The normally soothing voice of the blonde witch turned cold. "What is this?"

She absently passed the paper to Giles now sputtering 'Dear Lords' left and right as he read each line.

"Willow." Giles closed his eyes, the paper in his hand crinkling as his hand turned to a fist, the corner of his mouth twitched, his jaw visibly clenching. "What have you done?" He asked, eyes still closed, his voice even and smooth etched with a forced sense of calm.

"What did I do? I didn't just sit on my ass like you, that's what I did. I tried to do what was necessary!" Willow spoke with a raised voice.

"Tried?" Anyone who knew Giles could hear the relief in his voice. Seconds past before the eye of the storm past and a Ripperish glare crossed his face. "You Arrogant, Rank Armature! Do you have any idea what you've attempted? The forces you've invoked?"

"It would have worked." Willow spat.

"Your bloody lucky to be alive!" Giles shouted.

"It wasn't luck. I knew what I was doing. I was perfect!" Willow threw her hands up in frustration. "I just needed more time!"

Giles glared. A vein pulsing on his forehead as he prayed for the patience not to murder the witch for her own stupidity.

"H...how could you?" Tara spoke up her voice weak and soft. "Y...you p...promised."

"Tara, baby." Willow reached out a hand.

"Don't!" Tara shouted, any illusion of weakness gone "Don't touch me!"

"Giles?" Dawn tried not to flinch as his eyes turned to her.

"I'm sorry Dawn. I just …" He let out a sigh as Dawn hugged him again. He closed his eyes, hugging the slight girl who'd become his daughter through fate. All he had left of his slayer.

His eyes shot open. His hand gripping her arms and prying them from his body as Dawn gave him a hurt look. "Your sure? Your okay?" He asked.

"Yeah. I mean, I'm a little out of it, but I'll bounce back. You know us slayers." Dawn managed a half hearted smile.

Giles returned it with a shove. Watching as Dawn flailed her arms before falling clumsily on her butt. His jaw clenched. "Dear lord." The dots connected in his mind. His eyes blazing as he slowly, angrily turned towards Willow. Her reaction mirrored the same realization.

"Tell me, that you dug up the body first." The voice of Ripper demanded.

 **Sunnydale, California – St. Mary's Cemetery**

Buffy woke from a painful cough, still sprawled out on the ground, her mouth full of dirt. Slimy dirt she realized, mud, wet with the metallic tang of blood. Her stomach clenched, dry heaving and spitting, riding her mouth of the horrid, gritty goo. She collapsed back onto her side not fighting the dry heaves coming slower and slower.

Blurry vision filtered through her eyes, just enough light to study the small dirty hands in front of her. Crimson red streaks running over the muck of the dirt covering them slowly oozing towards the ground. She heaved once more, wincing at the pain of her stomach forcibly attempting to exit through her mouth.

Her blurry eyes studied the ground, picking up portions of the intricate patterns surrounding her. She rolled to her knees, the coppery scent still heavy as slender knees slid into the wet soaking ground.

 _Mud_

She pulled a leg forward attempting to stand, but the mud was slippery. She fell backwards, her back landing on something firm and furry. Turning around she realized to her horror she'd just fallen onto the dead body of an animal, spit open in ritual horror.

She quickly rolled off, her gut clenching once more finally expelling a putrid slime. It smelled awful, it tasted worse. She tried to spit out the taste but it refused to leave. No spit available to help cleanse it from her mouth. She glanced around, finding a small pond.

 _Water_

She didn't bother to sip daintily from the edge, instead just crawling in, letting herself slip beneath the surface. Her lungs burned and she took a breath, panic returning as she fought to escape the water's grasp, coughing and hacking when she hit the air.

She struggled back to the edge of the pond, laying in yet more mud as her lungs naturally worked the water out in a new discovery of pain in discomfort. Finally recovered she leaned her head back to the surface of its murky depth taking care to swallow and not breath the water.

Everything was new, unknown and confusing.

The cool water soothing the irritation from dirt she'd inhaled or ate. Drinking more and more until her stomach muscles seized once more, gurgling and coughing as the water was expelled. Minutes later she again lowered her head to the water, sipping small, careful amounts this time.

She wadded back into the pond, cleaning the filth off as best she could. Removing the torn dress she looked down at her bare chest, admiring the pointed mounds. Her muscles tight and firm, peeking out from under her skin everywhere she could see. She frowned, noting her protruding bones, realizing her body looked half starved and emaciated.

She finished rinsing herself, washing the dress and wringing out the excess water. Covering herself in the damp cloth as she shakily trudged from the pond to solid ground. She winced. Stopping to pick a thorn from her foot, wishing she hadn't left her shoes behind. She shuddered at the thought of where they were quickly deciding there was no way she was going back for them.

The initial panic of being in the coffin had subsided. Replaced now with pain and the confusion surrounding her. The discomfort of pressure on her skin drowned out by the symphony of different pains emerging one by one to make themselves known.

She walked, wincing each time something new and sharp bit into the unprotected flesh of her feet. She quickly reached the lights in the distance, confused by the world unfolding around her. More and more lights appearing as she continued deeper into town, trying to make out one fuzzy shape from another blob.

She faltered as a memory flickered through her mind, her knees and palms crashing into concrete to break her fall.

 _I jumped._

 _I died._

 _This is hell._

Something on the edge of her mind screamed that this was wrong. That she didn't belong here, in this world, this place where everything was just as hard and painful as the concrete ripping through the flesh of her knees.

 _Was the peaceful warmth just a ploy? Something to soften her_ _will_ _? Ease her guard before she was left in hell for_ _eternity_ _?._

Her body tensed, rising to her feet as muscles coiled instinctively, her eyes catching movement in the blurry distance. Her heart pounded in her chest, fists clenching tightly as her ears picked up the shuffle of feet, a great many feet. Senses screaming that everything was wrong as a crowd of blobs edged into view.

 _Too many._

She ran, slinking into the shadows before she could be seen, letting her body decided the route. Her balance was off, her legs sluggish, half stumbling half running as she fought to keep herself upright, anything to avoid smashing into the ground once more. Anything to avoid the pain.

She ducked into an alley, hidden by darkness from the dull orange glow of lights, her lungs panting heavily to keep the burning at bay. Everything here hurt, everything was too much, too hot, too cold, too soft, too hard. Everything was misery in this world she found herself in.

 _Hell._

Her moment of safety was over, gritting her teeth as a new scuffle of feet filled her ears, closer, fewer. Two more blobs edging into view as they approached from within the alley. Both blobs emitting the same wrongness as the others. But she'd been seen already, there was no hiding. A shiver ran down her spine as the blobs approached.

Her body was tense, ready for a fight, but her mind was frozen in terrorizing fear. An illogical thought keeping her in place, hoping, praying that they would pass her by if she didn't move, didn't present a threat, didn't challenge the wrongness she felt.

But this was hell, there was no safety, no being ignored, her body still frozen in fear as a fist slammed into her face as she watched on helplessly. The blow breaking more than just her nose, something dark slipping free from it's bonds within, something feral and violent.

'Crack'

The blob was close now, close enough that her blurry vision could discern the human features. Her hands on either side of his head, now facing an impossible angle as the body crumpled to the ground. The limp form falling in a way that showed his lifeless gaze.

 _Oh God._

She blocked her ears, wincing in pain from the piercing screech that followed as the other took offense at his fallen comrade. The sound matching the wrongness still sending shivers down her spine.

She ran. Pushing, willing uncoordinated limbs to cooperate in a clumsy gate too slow to evade her persuader, to escape the flash of jagged metal slicing and tearing through the flesh and meat of her back. The tip of the axe connecting with her left shoulder, gouging to the bone of her scapula as it followed its grisly arc through meat and flesh towards the small of her back. The left half of her tattered dress sagged, the thin shoulder strap another casualty of the blow. The yelp from the searing pain that followed came out as a hoarse wheeze, her throat still raw and useless.

The darkness took over once more, her motions blurring together. The weapon still glistening with a sheen of her blood now found buried deeply into the chest of the man. He crumpled to his knees. Blood spurting from his mouth as the waves of wrongness faded in unison with the light in his eyes.

 _No._

Her eyes widened, stomach clenching, heaving in disgust at what her body, her hands had done. A trickle of vile tasting slime finally slipping from her queasy stomach as another screech filled the air. The noise of shuffling feet – many feet – growing in the distance. The dread and shivers running down her spine intensifying as something wrong approached, too many somethings.

She ran.

 **Sunnydale, California**

Giles was not a happy man. To say that he was fuming mad was insufficient. Enraged only seemed only to approach describing the anger boiling under his skin. He glanced at the teenager sitting beside him praying for calm. It didn't work.

 _The lunacy._

His teeth ground tightly together. Afraid what words would spill if he opened his mouth. Outside of training he'd never raised a hand against Dawn and even then never in anger. Now however, sitting in his car as they moved through the dimly lit streets of Sunnydale, he wanted to wail on the now former slayer's rear. Use a paddle until dark red and maroon had been left far, far behind.

 _Foolish, foolish, imbeciles._

He twisted his hands on the vinyl of the steering wheel. Ignoring the sword sticking through the quarter panel of his sporty red coop as he drove on. His eyes peeled, scanning the night for a flash of blonde hair.

They'd already checked Buffy grave. He wasn't sure if he was more disturbed by the remains of Willow's spell, or the Buffy-shaped hole scoured through the ground.

His eyes flicked to his right, scowling as he caught a glance of Dawn sitting thankfully silent as she too scanned the night for any trace of her sister. The brunette, powerless, now that whatever made the slayer had migrated back to its rightful home.

Xander was hopefully out of surgery now, maimed forever from this night due to his charges unbelievably stupid actions. Willow had been, thankfully, too exhausted to do anything but pass out in the waiting room once her adrenaline faded leaving the others to search for her mistake. He was glad she'd stayed behind. Afraid he'd have murdered the witch when they were too late to excavate Buffy from her grave, to save her from that horror, to have a chance at rendering aid to whatever had emerged.

"I …" Dawn spoke.

"Keep looking!" He growled. He could yell and curse at Dawn later.

 _Never discipline a child when angry_ he reminded himself.

It's what the books said. He'd read a great many trying to prepare himself for his new role as a father to a teenager. Nowhere had he seen a chapter on how to properly scold your child after something so … He grit his teeth tighter.

 _Later._

"You have some minion on your windshield still. It's very annoying to look at." Anya broke the silence.

"I'm bloody well aware of that!" He spat. He could only thank the powers that he'd chosen a red car. Between the cover of night and the cherry red paint, the blood on his car was hidden nicely. Though the sword still lodged firmly through a thin metal panel was admittedly, less discrete.

Their run in with a pack of the Immortal's minions tonight reinforced the need to find Buffy as fast as possible. She didn't have a car capable of plowing through a herd if encountered. As it was, he dared not turn off the ignition for any reason, afraid it would never again start. The sickly grating noises and warning lights blinking on his dash signaling the impending end of it's short life. His foot pushed the accelerator down further, speed limits left far behind in blackness the Sunnydale police knew to avoid.

"Anything?" He asked, hopeful, but already knowing the answer.

"N...no" Tara murmured just loud enough to hear over the rush of air around the convertible.

"There!" Dawn pointed.

Giles turned sharply, tires skidding after the flash of blonde. It was the second time they'd caught a glimpse of her tonight. The first time, passing close enough to see the blood stained back of the formerly white dress she'd been buried in.

He feared what they might find once they finally caught up with her. No doubt in his mind that Buffy had heard their shouts and pleas before she slipped through yards and alleys disappearing from their sights. That she'd ignored them, fled even, spoke ill of what they may finally encounter. The horrid thought of having to … put down … whatever semblance of Buffy had returned too unspeakable to consider.

"Buffy!" Dawn cried. "Buffy!"

He breathed a sigh of relief when he turned another corner to see his battered slayer.

 _She's Alive._

His heart stopped as he saw her struggling gate of a run. The slayer too tired to keep her pace as he eased on the brakes, frowning as the gaping wound on her back came into better view.

"Dear Lord!"

She was filthy. Her tattered dress caked with mud, blood still streaming down her back dripping onto her legs as she finally slowed to a walk. He could see her tense as she stepped on something sharp, favoring one foot as she left a trail of red footprints behind. The soles of her feet bloodied and raw.

The tires barked as he skidded to a stop just yards behind her. All four of them jumping out of the car the second it came to a halt.

"Buffy?" Dawn repeated softly.

There was a round of gasps as she turned. Her hand shielding her eyes from the headlights, easily illuminating the bare flesh where a part of her dress had slipped down, a casualty of whatever fight she'd already seen. He averted his eyes, trying desperately to keep them on her grimy sweat covered face in lieu of the exposed breast facing him.

Dawn took a step forward only for Buffy to flinch away. Crouching like an animal before lunging forwards, burying her foot through the grill of his car as if it was a demon that had chased her. Metal clashed and ground together as moving parts were pushed together from the force, the already overheated radiator spewing boiling coolant over her leg in the cars equivalent of arterial spray signaling it's imminent death.

He winced as she hopped away, steam hissing as boiling coolant dribbled to the ground. Her leg already forming blisters, red from the burns as she panted and wheezed in obvious pain.

"Dawn, stay back" He ordered as calmly as possible. Inching towards the girl who was acting more like a rabid animal caught in a trap than the young woman he'd grown to love.

"But-"

"I said stay back!" He hissed, inching forwards. Watching as Buffy stopped her little dance of pain, deadly eyes locking with his own, broken only by the furious blinking as she tried to see through the blinding headlights. He took another step forwards. Calmly, slowly, creeping towards her praying that if he could just get get her home they might be able to somehow undo the damage done.

He cursed himself as his eyes darted down to her left breast, his hand reaching out and slowly, ever so slowly, lifted some of the dangling fabric to cover her modesty. Her eyes watching his every move, distrusting, furiously blinking, darting between Dawn, Tara, Anya and himself. He could see her chest heaving, the panic written on her face as the inner battle to trust him raged.

His cars engine suddenly and very loudly chose that delicate moment to screech to its final end, seizing in death at the worst possible instant. His mind knew what was coming at the startling noise. He felt her body tense, felt her move, saw the fist that came crashing into the side of his face making the world go black.

Buffy hopped back several paces as the man collapsed. Startled at her own reaction as the three others eyed her warily. Each inching towards her in some attempt to appear less than threatening. They didn't feel wrong, not like the others, just the lite buzz of wrongness that seemed to be everywhere in this town filling her mind. She took another step back, holding the distance between them. Glad the machine, the car, was crippeed from her fit of rage at its endless pursuits.

"Buffy" one of them asked.

She wheezed at them, trying to demand they stay back. This was hell, there was no compassion in hell. Only pain. Pain and suffering.

"What's wrong with her?" A tall blonde asked.

"S...she ... she's in s...shock."

"Buffy, It's me, It's Dawn."

The dark haired girl took a confident step forwards. Too confident.

Buffy ran. Finally able to escape, to outrun them now that the car had been slain.

 **A/N:** Poor Giles … always getting knocked unconscious.


	8. Chapter 8 - The Slayer Diaries

**Chapter 8 - The Slayer Diaries**

 **June 6th, 2001 – 1550 Hours**

 **PAST - FOUR DAYS AFTER BUFFY'S DEATH**

 **Cheyenne Mountain Complex (SGC) – Briefing Room**

Hank sighed as he slipped into a chair. Letting his briefcase clatter onto the polished wood of the conference table.

"I thought you were going to be gone for a few more days Hank. Weren't you going to spend some time with your daughters?" Hammond asked, his happy yet neutral eyes studied the new arrival.

… … …

"Hank?" Hammond lost his smile.

Hank took a breath, steeling himself as he looked at the admittedly attractive Major seated across from him. 'Carter' he reminded himself, her eyes practically drooling with questions begging to be answered. "It wasn't any of our doing, whatever it was that happened in Sunnydale."

Hammond held up a staling hand. "Later, we're still waiting on someone."

Hank swore he heard the Major squeak with frustration. "Oh."

"So, your daughter's run you out of town already?" Hammond half heartedly joked. "They always seemed to be a bit on the energetic side. I know Kayla and Tessa always run me into the ground, but I wouldn't have it any other way."

Hank nodded. It was close enough to the truth.

"Are you feeling alright?" Hammond asked.

 _No._

Hank opened his mouth, the lies already lining up in his mind. Glad the door swung open before he spoke. An older man, a stern look across his face entering with a middle aged woman in tow. His eyes widened when he recognized the face.

"Senator Kinsey." Hammond acknowledged in a flat tone.

"General, Major." Senator Robert Kinsey returned, his eyes slowly landing on Hank. "I'm afraid I'm unfamiliar with-"

"Hank Summers" Hank quickly finished unwilling to earn the ire of the NID biggest benefactor. "National Intelligence Division."

"Yes, of course." kinsey gave a smile that never seemed to reach his eyes.

"Victoria Midland" The woman introduced.

Hank watched as Hammond's brow tightened and the Major tried, then failed to hide a scowl. He quickly matched the fake smiles everyone else in the room seemed to be wearing.

Hammond: "Miss Midland-"

"Mrs. Midland" She corrected.

Hammond: "Of course, Mrs. Midland, I wasn't aware you would be joining us."

Kinsey: "Yes, well I needed someone competent to keep an eye on things once I leave."

Hank caught a few less than polite words Carter muttered under her breath.

"Mrs. Midland will be remaining to perform a review of the SGC and it's personnel." Kinsey explained, the smile on his face now seeming genuine.

Hammond: "I see. And this has been approved?"

"Congressional oversight committees don't need approval to place qualified observers in the programs that we oversee." Kinsey grinned.

"We'll see about that" Hammond grumbled.

If anything Kinsey's smile seemed to widen at the challenge.

Hank watched the small battle of wills as George's face remained as neutral as the vein bulging from his forehead would allow. He didn't need to see the subtle clues to know the man's thoughts, Senator Kinsey's grudge with the leadership of the SGC was approaching legendary in classified circles.

Hank decided to jump in as the newcomers took their seat. "As I was saying, the energy burst detected by Major Carter wasn't anything of our doing. The operation in Sunnydale was mothballed and everything I saw confirmed that this is still the case." He opened his briefcase, preparing to pass out copies of his report.

"Mr. Summers." Mrs. Midland interrupted. "You were directed to defer to the NID's official report."

Hank raised an eyebrow in question. Racking his brain searching in vein for those directions.

"There was an email." She clarified. Pulling a stack of papers of her own and sliding them across the table towards the various people. "This report contains the relevant findings of Mr. Summers investigation. As you can see, experts at the NID have classified it as a naturally occurring phenomenon. No links to the Stargate Program or the Goa'uld were found. Any further questions can be directed, in writing, to the signatory of the final report."

Hank frowned, skimming through the redacted report finally reaching the end.

 _Victoria K. Midland_

"This doesn't answer anything!" Carter snapped after reaching the end in a bout of speed reading "You might as well have said that something may, or may not have happened. Ranging from a nuclear bomb to a damn dog pissing on a fire hydrant! And it wasn't a bomb!"

Victoria: "Those are your answers Major ..."

"Carter!"

"Carter. Thank you for bringing this to the NID's attention." Victoria's smile seemed to match the Senators.

Kinsey grinned as Victoria handed him a sealed envelope. "The scope of Mrs. Midland's review." He slid the hefty packet towards Hammond, quickly standing to leave.

"And this required a U.S. Senator to deliver?" Hammond questioned out loud.

"No. But I have business in the area."

 _And I wanted to see the hopeless anger in your eyes_ Hank mentally added.

"Mrs. Midland" Kinsey nodded, leaving before his seat could even warm.

Minutes later Hank found himself seated in front of a seething general. His face growing more deeply red with each paper removed from the envelope.

"This can wait George. You've got bigger things on your mind than catching up." Hank offered, hopeful his offer would be taken.

"No-no. It's fine. Just one more hoop to jump through. Nothing that wasn't already expected."

Hank caught the lie in his tone but let it go.

Hammond leaned forward in his chair. "What aren't you telling me Hank?"

"I'm sorry George. Whatever is in the report is all I can say."

"That's not what I was talking about."

… … …

"How's your family. Really?"

"Fine."

… … … "Fine?" Hammond narrowed his gaze.

"Let it go George."

"No. Somethings wrong. Don't bullshit me Hank, I'm not in the mood."

"You really want to know?"

… … …

"My families gone George."

Hammond scoffed "Joyce left you, I get it. But they're not gone."

"George, I haven't been to see my daughters in … I honestly don't even know how many years."

Hammond's face returned to its reddish hugh.

"This was going to be my big apology." He leaned over, head gripped between his hands. "When I got the assignment to go to Sunnydale … It was a sign George. I was … I was going to ask if Dawn or Buffy wanted to come to Colorado for the summer."

Hammond frowned, then frowned deeper. "They turned you down then I take it"

He shook his head "Their gone! Buffy and Joyce are dead." Hank finally admitted "Dawn hates me." A tear slipped down his cheek.

… … … "I honestly don't know what to say … How?"

"What does it matter?"

"And you didn't even know?" The disapproving anger in the general's voice matched his face.

"I haven't talked to them in years George." Hank broke, sobbing into his hands.

"How did you **not** know Joyce had died, your own daughter?!"

… … …

The generals voice took a cold turn "Get out! Get out and go home. Don't come back to my base until you've got your head together."

Hammond watched as his old 'friend' slunk out of his office. His anger boiling and barely contained just below the surface. Slumping into his desk at the thought of little Buffy, such a pleasant young girl, now lost to the world.

His foul mood darkening, as he once more turned back to the stack of papers detailing Mrs. Midlands review of the SGC. He clenched his fist, slamming it into the envelope he deeply wished to throw into the vortex of a forming wormhole. Wanting to toss the man responsible and his leashed dog in right behind it.

Taking a less than calming breath he pushed the intercom on his phone. He needed to hit something and god forbid it end up being any of his staff, staff other than O'Neill at least. "Walter, if anyone needs me I'll be in the gym."

"I'm sorry sir, did you say the gym?"

"Not a word sergeant. I'm not in the mood. Not a goddamn word."

 **Sunnydale, California – 1630 Revello Drive**

"You want to train me?" Dawn repeated Spikes words. "You and Giles?"

"No bit, I want to give you a choice. A choice big sis never got. Do you even want anything to do with this, being the slayer?"

"I'm not afraid of-" Dawn tried to reply before she was cut off.

"You bloody well think about this before you say one more word. There's a lot big sis hid from you. You really think you want anything to do with this life, her life. You talk to Rupes first. You ask him to level with you. I've fought a few slayers in my day, reason they go down is cause they decide the don't wanta keep going. Even your sis struggled with that one, got too close to the line, started wondering what was on the other side, got careless, got hurt. Near the end she … You just talk to Rupes. It ain't bloody free." Spike lectured.

"Fine"

"Good"

"Perfect" Dawn grinned.

"Fan-freaking-tastic"

"You done?"

"Yeah, rekkon I am" Spike huffed leaning back into the couch "You don't have to stay here. On the hellmouth. Not your problem. We can leave. Me, you, Rupes, whoever."

"I'll think about it okay."

"You do that."

Dawn opened her mouth, settling instead with snuggling up to her 'babysitter' - aka guard - on the couch.

Spike let out a reflexive breath. "Look, you've got me either way. I can teach you to fight, but Rupes has a way of explaining things you haven't considered. Need to get all the facts before you dive in." Spike replied as he felt the warmth from Dawn begin to soak in. "Not your fight, what big sis did. Not unless you make it yours. Once you open that door it ain't an easy one to close."

"I thought we done talking about this?"

"Smartass"

"Jerk"

"You bloody Summers women …"

"You know you love us." Dawn quickly burrowed deeper into black leather, avoiding the hurt she was sure was on Spike's face after her slip.

 **ONE DAYS LATER**

 **Sunnydale, California – 1630 Revello Drive**

"Giles!" Willow quickly stepped away from the door gesturing him to enter.

"Thank you my dear. How are things going?" Giles asked as he pulled the young woman into a hug.

Willow shrugged "As well as can be expected I guess. I still can't really believe it. It's like, I saw Buffy fight so much, and she always came through it. I guess … I guess I figured she always would."

Giles nodded, his eyes losing focus, staring off into the distance. "But this is how it ends, isn't it. How every watcher-slayer relationship ends. One of us dies."

Willow grimaced, closing the door behind him "Dawn's in her room. Look, be careful, she's kind of … volatile. She trashed her room the night of the funeral and ran off for a while and … well you probably already know all of this. Just, please don't make her run off."

"Yes, I'm well aware of Dawn's little … adventure. It's part of the reason I'm here." Giles replied, cleaning his glasses.

"And the other part?"

"I am Dawn's guardian. We have some decisions to make." Giles replied with heavy words shifting a leather case in his hands.

"What's that?" Willow asked, shifting to catch a view of the unlabeled spine of a book peeking out.

"Nothing that concerns you."

"Jeez. Just curious. Anyway, I'm headed out to meet Tara. Feel free to … discuss … without me." Willow replied slipping out the front door.

Giles let out a sigh, moving into the living room and slumping into the first chair he saw. "I'm guessing you heard all of that. You can come down if you want, or I can come up."

Giles heard a door creak open, near silent footsteps following.

"I'll come down."

Giles glared at the collection of journals he'd brought, wishing them to be the vivacious blonde he grew to love instead of just the remnants of her thoughts and secrets. He never wanted to see these books again as long as he lived.

Dawn sank into the couch next to him with an exaggerated and very Buffy-like huff.

Giles sighed.

 _If Buffy had been a drama queen, Dawn was the Emperor.._

"Did Spike speak to you?" He asked.

"Said I needed to talk with you. Needed to make up my mind about being the slayer."

"Good, so have you?"

"Huh?"

"Made up your mind?"

"I … I had … but..."

"What did he tell you?"

"He said you'd have a better idea of what my sister faced … in her own mind I guess. That I should listen."

"Well then, listen and listen well. I don't know how much of this you know, how much Buffy hid from you and your mother over the years. But she was a slayer for over seven years. That's a lot of fighting, and a lot of horrors. And I can promise you, her wrath would be inescapable if she knew you were called as a slayer when she … when she …"

"You can say the words Giles. You can't make it any worse than it is."

Giles grimaced. They'd been hard enough to write in his own watchers journals, saying them out loud seemed impossible. "I loved your sister Dawn. I loved her like she was my own daughter."

"I know … … … She talked about you, you know. After dad … after he disappeared on us. She would just kind of drift off in her own world. She looked happy, I like to think she was picturing us as a family. You, me, mom."

Giles smiled "A pleasant thought." Giles reminisced for a moment before returning to his somber mood "Did you know I'm not Buffy's first watcher?"

Those words caught Dawn off guard "What?"

"I'll take that was a yes. Buffy's first watchers name was Merrick Lagrange. From what Buffy had told me they'd developed a close relationship, much like the one we had after our first few months together." Giles explained in a dark tone.

Dawn opened her mouth, gaping like fish before finally speaking "Merrick, I think I might have met him once. Not a nice person."

Giles chuckled sadly "No, he wasn't. But your sister … well, she had a way of making even the even the worst of men fall in love with her. We're trained to not care, watchers, to let slayers fight alone, to stand back, to advise, report. The watchers are the memories of the slayer, we must survive to ensure that."

"What … what happened to him?"

"Killed by your sister's first master vampire."

"The Master. But … we were already in Sunnydale then?"

Giles shook his head "Lothos, not as old as the master, but quite a vicious monster. He killed Merrick while trying to get to Buffy, or, more accurately, Merrick killed himself to try to stop that from happening. Buffy killed Lothos in return."

"I never … I just knew she was fighting a lot with Mom and Dad before they sent her off to that retreat. Wait, the gym she burned down?"

"Filled with vampires. She took the loss of her first watcher … rather poorly."

"Huh."

"Quite."

"Wait, the retreat?"

"Erm, yes. Not a retreat. Buffy ran away for a while after her battle with Lothos trying to escape her calling.

"I knew that."

"When she finally came home and came clean with your parents. They had her committed."

"They What?!" Dawn yelled.

… … …

"My parents …" Dawn frowned "She never talked about it, just … shut down whenever I brought it up. I knew it was bad, but a nut house?"

"They surprised her, drugged her before she could put up a fight. She was … she never talked much about that, even with me. I believe there is much more to the story than I'm aware of and I'm rather afraid of what that might be."

Giles sighed, steeling himself for even the mention of the books he'd brought with him "This brings me to the purpose of my visit, at least part of it." Giles continued as he placed the heavy leather satchel on the coffee table between them. "These, are the slayer diaries, your sister's diaries" he clarified with a heavy heart.

"No, her diaries are upstairs, in the closet, second sh … oh crap!" Dawn squeaked.

"Dawn, your sister was well aware of your … habits. Since coming out to your parents was so … disastrous … she figured a more subtle approach was needed for you. She kept those diaries as a way to slowly give you information she wanted you to have.

"These … " He gestured to the journals "Are her real diaries."

Dawn looked at the books as a mix of dread and excitement found her heart "What's in them?"

"I've no idea, a great many private things I imagine."

"So … you've never read them? You expect me to believe that?"

"There is no guide for slayers other than their watcher, and the slayer handbook. Both of which are slanted to portray the slayer as the obedient lap dog of the council. Buffy … had other ideas." Giles smiled at the remarkable foresight his slayer had possessed "She always kept a diary. Asked me to make it possible for future slayers to have them as a reference, a guide if you will, telling them not just what had come before, but how she felt. Her struggles with life. Something to help them through what a slayer must endure. Something their watchers couldn't help them with, couldn't understand."

"After the incident with the cruciamentum she wanted to ensure no watcher could ever read them." A shiver ran down Giles spine as he thought about that day. "She … I … we cast the spell using Buffy's blood, the power of the slayer. Very powerful, very ancient, and very, very dark. No one but a slayer may read them. Per her very explicit request … the penalty for attempting to forcibly read them, is death. Though, that's not been tested. The books do force any unpermitted readers to feel a building sense of discomfort and unease first, only if they persist …"

"Oh."

"Quite. I've honestly no idea what they contain. Though I do doubt she ever expected you of all people to read them. The other part of the spell is that the books will find their way into the hands of the next slayer. I've already felt the pull, so I suppose that part is working."

Dawn swallowed as the enormity of what she was receiving sank in. Her sister's secrets, All of her secrets, unfiltered, uncensored. "I guess … I should … I should read these before I decide what I want to do."

"I believe that would be wise, yes. I've included a few of my watchers diaries as well in the hope it will dissuade you from simply stealing them later."

"Me?" Dawn feigned shock at such an accusation. "You said there was other stuff you wanted to talk to me about?" Her eyes not daring to drift towards the treasure trove of secrets before her.

"Hrmm, yes. You're aware your sister made me your legal guardian in the event of her … death?" Giles stumbled through the words. Still trying to come to grips with the notion that he essentially now had a teenage daughter as he failed to push thoughts of Buffy from his mind.

"Yes, we covered this the night … " Dawn let her answer trail off.

"Yes, not a night I like to think about either. I wasn't sure how much you'd remember."

" **All** of it Giles."

"I'm so very sorry"

… … …

"You need to decide if you want to remain here or if you want to move in with me, or if you want me to move here. I am in control of all of Joyce, then Buffy's possessions until you turn eighteen, that includes this house. But I will abide by your wishes unless I feel they are inappropriate."

"Define inappropriate" Dawn attempted levity falling woefully short.

"I think we'll know if or when we see it. Don't you?"

Dawn shrugged "I guess. I think I'd like to keep it like it is for now. Tara and Willow can move in permanently. Tara … she kind of reminds me of mom, you know. You keep your apartment. I can change my mind later right?"

Giles shifted over to the couch joining Dawn. A caring hand rubbing small circles on her back "Of course. The other thing we need to decide is if we try to keep Buffy's death a secret from the underworld. Willow may be able to repair the Buffybot, it's not very convincing but-"

"I want it destroyed!"

Giles nodded "I understand. Likely for the best. We need to decide if you want me to tell the council that you're a slayer or not."

Dawn looked up a him with shock "Why would we tell them anything?"

"They keep tabs on the slayer, even when Buffy wasn't working for them, they still kept track of her. If we don't use the Buffybot, it won't be long before they figure out Buffy's gone. They may know already. If you decide you want to take up the mantle of The Slayer, it won't be that long before they catch wind of it. They'll figure it out eventually. Question is if we want to beat them to the punch and tell them or let them figure it out on their own."

"What will they do when they find out?"

Giles shrugged "I don't really know. Ordinarily they would send a new watcher. But this is hardly ordinary. Given your familiarity with me they may accept me as your watcher, or they may use that as an excuse to try to force a new watcher on you. Try to isolate you before your sure of yourself like they do with other slayers."

"I vote for not telling. We don't gain anything by telling them do we?"

"No, not really. That was my thought as well. In any event, Spike has already volunteered to make any watcher they might send … disappear."

"He should make them all disappear, present company excluded."

"I appreciate the pardon. I tend to agree with you." He sighed, preparing for the shriek he knew was coming. "Summer School."

"What?!" Dawn screamed.

"Your grades this semester were abysmal."

"But-"

"I understand. But unless you wish to be held back a grade, it's non negotiable."

She sighed dramatically, throwing herself into the embrace of the couch.

"You sound just like her you know … when you're not paying attention. No matter what you choose, people will always compare you, as much as I will try not to, me included. But I'll always love you Dawn. Partly because she asked me to, and partly because a part of her lives on through you."

Dawn was starting to shed her own tears now at the fatherly figures tender words "What do you mean a part of me?"

"Another day my dear, it may very well be written in those journals you're holding." Giles replied gritting his teeth against the threatening tears "I'll call and check on you tomorrow, okay?"

She nodded "Thanks for this Giles, I know it's hard to talk about her." Dawn replied giving him a quick hug.

Giles eyes went wide, his face turning red "A … a … r … Good lord" Giles panted "You need to learn to hug softly my dear, something your sister never seemed to quite manage I'm afraid." Giles managed a chuckle as he stood.

"Giles, why were you chosen to be Buffy's second watcher?"

Giles froze, the question catching him off guard.

… … … "I … I never actually asked at the time. It's considered such a great honor to be the watcher to the slayer that I never thought twice about it. So many of us watch without ever serving a slayer. I guess no one wanted to get close to a slayer who'd never trained before she was called. As your own experiences from the other night may attest, they don't usually last very long. With her first watcher having already died before she'd defeated Lothos no one knew she'd pulled it off. I was always a black sheep in the council, looked down upon. They probably figured I'd either get killed like her first watcher or be disgraced when she died."

Giles let out a teary chuckle "I bet they never expected her to be the one giving them ultimatums. God she was something."

Dawn felt the tickle of another tear roll down her cheek "Yeah, she really was" She replied as she clutched the books in her arms like a lifeline.


	9. Chapter 9 - Toes

**Chapter 9 - Toes**

 **August 26** **th** **, 2001 – 0040 Hours**

 **PRESENT - 2 HOURS, 20 MINUTES AFTER BUFFY'S RESURRECTION**

 **Ten Miles outside Sunnydale, California**

The gentle whine of rubber gliding over asphalt filtered through the protective casing of nearly four thousand pounds of modern engineering. Leaning back to enjoy this new found joy he eyed the radio with a suspicious glare, distrustful of its dubious purpose. Learning to drive the 'borrowed' sports car had been enough to wrap his head around without engaging any of the potentially detrimental additives. Not that crashing into one of the many hundreds of trees would be lethal, not to him.

Eyeing another solid looking elm as he rounded yet another bend, he pressed the smallest pedal further. The distinct rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins as his new found driving skills eluded yet another obstacle, navigating the treacherous road at a furious pace. The largest dial on the dash pointing to the number thirty-five, the highest he'd braved thus far.

A crash at this speed wouldn't be lethal, but even a balance demon could feel pain.

Whistler scoffed; there was too much to accomplish this night to be slowed by the embrace of stationary forestry and fear of the resulting broken bones. He pressed the pedal further, muscles tensing nervously as the dial reached fifty. Time was finite in this dimension, and here, its flow obeyed no one but the rigid mathematics of physics. He pushed the pedal even further yet, the rumble of the engine finally making itself known for the first time this night. Should he crash, he could at least do enough damage that the powers would be obligated to repair his body. If only ending your life as a balance demon could be so easy.

Even with supernaturally enhanced sight he nearly missed his quarry. Her short stature neatly hiding the blonde mop behind a small rise in the road. He cursed as he pushed the larger pedal just a bit too hard, his face slamming into the leather covered steel of the steering wheel, taken off guard by the rapid deceleration of his modern chariot. Oh how he longed for the simplicity of four hooves and a leather bridal. But the needs must.

The bark of the tires announcing his arrival barley phased the champion before him. So exhausted from fleeing the hellmouth after a half-assed resurrection, she gave only a cursory glance over her shoulder as she finally slowed to a walk. He let a smile creep across his lips as he watched her stagger down the road for another half mile leaving a trail of bloody footprints in her wake. He watched as her petite form listed slightly to one side only to correct and sway to the other, like a tree blowing in the wind as she continued ever slower down the highway. He knew she was exhausted but he wasn't fooled. He'd watched from dimensions unseen as countless denizens of the hellmouth judged her to be an easy quarry on their final night among the living, or unliving. His grin slipped into a frown as he finally noticed the wound on her left shoulder while his chariot slowly followed. Wondering if - for just this one time - she wasn't putting on an act.

As if answering his question, she swayed just a bit too far for even supernatural balance to correct.

Whistler cursed until he found the correct lever to open the door, allowing his freedom from the cage of metal and glass. His frown deepened with each step he took towards his now unconscious champion. His eyes roved over her disheveled form, her tattered dress showing a bit more flesh that even the provocative slayer would permit giving a clear view to assess her injuries. Fortunately, it seemed only the shoulder wound was significant and even it's bleeding had slowed to an sluggish ooze. A Simple case of pure exhaustion finally driving the slayer onto the ground.

Resurrection was a brutal and disorientating process to the ressurrectee. Even more if the body to be resurrect was heavily damaged and doubly so when said damage was the cumulative result of a battle with a hell goddess followed by a hundred foot plunge through unstable magics ending abruptly on solid concrete. Whistler sighed as he warily scooped the deceptively light slayer into his arms and headed back towards his metal chariot. A voice in the back of his mind screaming that this was still a bluff, that she would finally make good on her most colorful of threats. Even unconscious, his demon half tensed in alarm, still wary of the predator held in his arms.

He let out a breath of relief when she didn't stir. The potent surge of adrenaline that made slayers such vicious weapons having long since run its course and faded, leaving nothing but a depleted store of calories to fill the gap. Calories her trim form was lacking even before they had been pillaged to repair damage enough to be lethal ten times over.

"Wish I could say this was it for tonight slayer. But you've got a lot of miles left to cover."

He needed her safely tucked away, out of the reach of the witch's magic while she healed, away from any influence but those chosen by him. It would only be hours before they resorted to locator spells. But in this modern era, with 'borrowed' sports cars and all manor of human devised machines, hours was all he needed to ship the vulnerable slayer off to his chosen destination. With enough distance, even a dormant hellmouth would prove sufficient to elude the dark powers of the budding witch. More importantly, doing so without drawing the ire of the PTB at being bothered with such a menial task.

 **Los Nueves, California**

Whistler gently coaxed the car to slow outside the hospital nearly a hundred miles north of its very dead - or potentially soon to be undead - former owner. Easing his foot cautiously into the stopping pedal with quickly improving skills, he took care not to wake the Slayer. Not while he was still in the car with her. The car with very confusing and periodically self locking door latches. He was glad that the car's former owner been kind enough to furnish it with keys and spare cloths. Even more relieved he'd taken the time to slip the jacket he'd found in the back onto the still deeply unconscious slayer while he'd had the chance.

One glance as the peaceful figure beside him and he feared if attempted that same feat now he'd come face to face with a panicked and confused huntress, very much awake and very much ready to slay the first thing that tinged her senses in the wrong way. Her memories would be absent for some time, but even if they hadn't been locked away there was every chance she'd still attack at the first sight of his face. He liked all his bones right where and not used as festive headwear.

The car came smoothly to a halt in the emergency drop off. Wasting no time he gently slipped into the night. Glad the doors had once again unlocked themselves with whatever witchcraft they possessed, saving him from pushing endless buttons until one obeyed, releasing him from its confines.

Just the absence of movement and the soft noise of the door being half closed had already caused the slayer to stir. Their conspicuous arrival having already gained attention from a nearby nurse, taking advantage of the lull in daily activity to catch a smoke. Whistler wasted little time, briskly stalking away, not bothering to observe the swarm of medical personnel descending on the wounded tigress rousing from her slumber.

With a gentle 'pop' he disappeared from this dimension the instant he was hidden from view. There was still much to be done to set the wheels fully in motion this night. To begin forging a new kind of champion.

For the briefest of moments, Buffy found herself back in the warmth she'd left behind. Something comfortable and fuzzy enveloped her as light filled her eyes. No sooner than she'd registered it, the instant of bliss it was gone. The warmth wasn't enough. The plush sensation touching her skin overwhelming her mind. The light flooding her eyes now blinding as it flicked from eye to eye with medical precision.

Pain.

It arrived in a tidal wave from every corner of her body flooding her mind. Each small injury registering before being lost, drowned by the scream of her shoulder and the burn of her feet and legs.

All she wanted was to sleep, rest until this nightmare passed and she woke back in her cocoon of warmth and uncaring. Somewhere far away from this confusing hell where nothing made sense.

The light flicked to her other eye, blinding and burning as gloved hands roughly pried it open. Another gloved hand reached in from nowhere, it's rubbery touch breaking some unseen dam within as it pressed against the side of her throat. It was too much, too much light, too much motion, too much touching.

 _Threat_

The thought that emerged from her muddled mind wasn't her own. There was something else within, something more than just her stream of thoughts. Something dark and enraged, spurring her body into motion. She felt her muscles coil, felt them spring to life, under her control and yet with a will of their own as well.

She bowled into the bodies blocking the door, knocking them down. Pain was forgotten in the new surge of adrenaline as the quick movements ripped open newly formed scabs. Her eyes barley registered individuals in the sea of white coats and medical scrubs. Not slowing her escape as she used people and pavement alike as stepping stones towards freedom. Doctors and nurses alike found themselves wholly unprepared to deal with a panicked slayer.

In a sprint that would leave olympic athletes envious, she headed towards the first alley her blurry eyes could find. Rounding the narrow turn so abruptly she was forced to take a step off the opposing wall to correct her trajectory. Sprinting down the alley, she emerged from the end just as a passing ambulance was gaining speed. She leapt with a final burst of speed, her feet landing on the rear bumper as she grabbed the first hold her hands found, anchoring herself for a ride anywhere but here.

 **MOMENTS AGO**

"Interns should be like flies on the wall, Meredith Grey! The next time I tell you to stay out of the way, you better damn well listen!" Dr. Miranda Bailey yelled the instant the doors had closed behind her. Out of earshot of the hospital staff behind, she ripped into her trainee, gripping the cooler of organs tightly in her hand.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-" Dr. Meredith Grey tried to explain to her furious supervisor. Looking for a small window of forgiveness and finding none in short woman's eyes. Eyes dark as Bailey's ebony skin viciously cutting down her pride.

"To touch a dead man's penis while I was cutting out his liver?!" Dr. Bailey fumed, her face still red from the equal parts embarrassment and rage her pupil had caused. "Or comment on the size of the appendage?"

"I didn't know that's where I put my hand until … I didn't expect it to be … engorged," Meredith replied, her face equally as red as her superior's but solely from her own embarrassment.

"You-" Dr. Bailey turned, facing the taller woman trying to find the correct words to match her displeasure. "You-" When no words came she turned in disgust, heading towards the waiting ambulance.

Like a dog with its tail between its legs, Meredith followed, quietly relieved Bailey hadn't decided her own liver would make a better transplant organ for the slowly dying recipient back in Seattle. For all her lack of height, Dr. Bailey was a force of nature, fierce and untameable and not to be taken lightly.

At least if Dr. Bailey killed her she wouldn't have to face the continued ridicule sure to await her once the story of her accidental indiscretion with the recently deceased Mr. Jameson was revealed. There was little doubt of the looming and spitefully unconventional punishment Dr. Bailey would have planned. Her reputation of promiscuous indiscretions was already becoming legendary, much to her dismay. This would simply be chalked up as one more unfortunate tally mark under the 'To Fire' column next to her name.

"I'll hold the cooler," Meredith gestured as a peace offering.

"I'm not letting your wandering hands anywhere near this liver. I'll probably find you trying to cop a feel. Now get in the damn ambulance!" Bailey ordered, slamming the doors shut as soon as her pupil sat down.

A small 'thump' interrupting the growl of the ambulance's lazily acceleration caused both doctors to exchange a confused look.

"We should stop and check if we hit something."

"Why, so we can see if there's another po' man's penis you can grope?" Bailey growled unconcerned by the noise.

 **Cheyenne Mountain Complex (SGC) – Major Samantha Carter** **'** **s Lab**

Sam's eyes were wide and focused, her mind sharp in the small hours of the night fueled by an endless stream of coffee. Her mouth distractedly chewed on a pen as she gorged herself on a flood of numbers streaming across her screen. It happened again, another burst of undefinable energy causing her instruments to scream to life hours ago.

Her teeth bit down once more on the soft plastic. A resolution to kick the habit long forgotten as she hungrily analyzed every single byte of data. Unconsciously she reached under her desk, grabbing a file she knew with certainty was there. Bland in appearance, no project number or identifiers to give it away. Just an innocent looking folder no one would suspect, no one who didn't understand the complexities of subspace wave propagation. Not without it being summarized into words a third grader could decipher. On this base, that meant less than a dozen people who could expose her research, none of which had any reason to suspect her less-than-obedient obsession.

Holding her breath, she quickly compared past and current readouts. Her keen eyes spotting the small, subtle differences mixed among parallels and similarities. She grinned, digging deeper and deeper into both past and present events. Obsessed with understanding the mystery that continued to elude her. Science demanded an answer to the unexplained.

Her own sanity demanded an answer.

The cause of these 'natural' phenomenon.

She rolled her eyes at the NID's casual dismissal of such a potentially monumental discovery. A few years ago no one would have been the wiser without seeing it with their own eyes, if the anomaly could even be witnessed by the human eye. Hard gained advances in technology giving her access to a plethora of sensors capable of seeing even infinitesimal power spikes and quantum radiation once thought impossible.

A quick glance at the upcoming schedule for SG-1 and her various research projects and a horribly delightful idea popped in her head. The thought quickly expounding, festering into fuzzy plan. Her mind raced, too focused on the rapidly solidifying plan to stop her teeth from chomping away on the mutilated pen.

Her hand reached back without guidance, knowing exactly where to find the form for requesting leave, still warm as it spat from the printer. A fresh pen clutched in hand, filling out dates and signatures at a furious pace. She frowned, grimacing as she reached up to remove the forgotten pen from her mouth. The blue tinged saliva coating it confirming the source of the horrid taste now filing her mouth.

 _Stupid Pen._

 **Los Angeles – Hyperion Hotel**

The normal reaction to a ringing phone at four in the morning would be rage masked only by the groggy fog of the early hour. Angel Investigations kept different hours, staffed night and day by mortals and the undead alike.

The leather clad vampire slid gracefully to the phone. The area code popping up on the small screen widening the thin smile already worn on his lips. He already knew what this was about. He'd felt it, the moment a bond severed was restored.

"Angel Investigations, we help the helpless."

There was no need to give away what he already knew as he rolled his eyes as the ridiculous greeting.

" _Angel, Rupert Giles. We seem to have a bit of a situation in Sunnydale."_

The voice wasn't as crisp as he remembered. Perhaps dulled by the failures of modern technology. He let his end of the line remain silent knowing the watcher would soon elaborate without prompt.

" _It seems Willow and Dawn have … Well you see they … rather foolishly …"_

There was a sigh across the line as the watcher attempted to put thoughts into words. He rolled his eyes once more at the British accented stammering that was occurring on the other end of the line. He was immortal, but even in death time was not to be wasted.

" _Bloody hell, Buffy's alive!"_

He could hear the reserved joy in the man's voice. Still, just slightly off from what it should be in such a moment.

"Buffy's alive?" a quarter millennia of practice had honed his acting skills. He didn't need to be told what he already knew. His skin still hummed from the instant it had happened. Such pure joy, such disgusting happiness knowing that his mate once more walked the earth.

A sickly smile widened as Angelus silently thanked the red witch for her folly. Even Angel in all of his desperation hadn't sunk so low as to attempt what nature deemed an aberration. Yet, it had been done.

" _Yes, alive, and rather confused it would seem. Understandable given the unfortunate execution of the resurrection spell."_

"You can't find her?" It was part guess, part intuition. A resurrection was bound to be a traumatic experience. More so if they'd lacked the foresight to excavate the slayer from her grave before hand. Two hundred and forty-eight years into his unlife and the experience of digging out of a grave was one he'd still happily forget. "You lost Buffy and you're just calling me now?"

He cursed his slip. Fearing the ever astute watcher would note the wording of his response.

" _Yes well, I've spent the better part of the last five hours unconscious."_

Fortunately it seemed the watcher was too frazzled by the night's events to notice. Another trip to the land of concussions helping to cover his error.

"Do a locator spell." It was the obvious answer, one even Angel would manage to deduce.

A groan at his feet stole his attention, a bloodied Wesley stirring from his own embrace with brain trauma. He reared his foot back to restore the man to his silence but changed his mind in the end.

" _Tara's already tried, Buffy's left Sunnydale. Willow's too drained to cast and Tara doesn't have the power for a wider net."_

"Seems you have a bit of a problem then."

" _Obviously we have a bloody problem!_ _"_

… … …

" _We think she might head towards Los Angeles"_

"Mmmmm," Angelus nearly purred at the thought. Already his mind was filling with such wonderful plans. So much business left unfinished from his last escape of the souled prison. One particularly perky slayer firmly seated on the top of his 'to eviscerate' list.

" _Angel are you alright?"_

His smile widened at the single eye fluttering open at his feet. A pity one had already swelled closed. Torture was so much more enjoyable with two wide eyes staring back in fear. Buffy may be the at the top of his list, but there were other, more readily available souls yet to crush. He grinned at the thought, pressing his foot down harshly onto the nearest hand, chuckling happily as Wesley let out an anguished scream.

"I've never felt better, Ripper."

… " _Dear Lord!"_

"Let's not bring him into this, shall we?"

" _Angelus."_

His his gleaming teeth beamed as his smile reached its limits at the unmistakable fear on the other end of the line. "I do love the way people say my name."

" _How?"_

"Your little witch thought there wouldn't be any consequences?" He let out a genuine laugh, moving his foot to slowly crush Wesley's chest. The man's scream now shifting to an interesting wheeze which demanded repetition. "Thought she could make light without creating shadows?"

" _Angelus-"_

"Do send my regards," he cut in "I'll be seeing you all soon enough. But, right now, Wesley seems so determined not to suffocate. Thank the hellmouth … cause I **really** wanna torture him. Have you ever peeled a human like a grape? You'll have to wait your turn."

Without another thought he crushed the phone in his hand before ripping the cord from the wall. There was only so much time left in the night for fun and games. By sunrise he would be long gone, safe from the reach of any who would dare threaten him with a soul. In truth he had no intention of crossing the red witch. Not so soon, not when it was so … expected. Especially not when she'd proved powerful enough to bring his favorite blonde plaything back to life.

There were only two more hours of darkness left, conveniently, the exact number of Angel's friends left with a human pulse.

Gunn had went first, the wily street fighter enough of a threat to end quickly, quietly, and with as much gore efficiently spread as the human body would allow. Fred was second, left chained downstairs, the blood cleaned neatly from her mouth to surprise any foolish enough to presume her death to be final. Still verging on insanity from her time on Pylea, she'd be a credit to his line. A second vampiress of his own making to be released upon the world. He couldn't wait to see what greatness she could achieve.

Cordilla was currently trussed up on the other end of the lobby, her body still bleeding from the first and second rounds of his attentions. As soon as she regained consciousness, he would make the most of what life she had left.

Lorne would have to wait for another day, perhaps a Molotov cocktail into Karatas on his way out of town to show his thanks. He couldn't help but wonder if the demon had foreseen this turn of events. The green skinned demon might already be well on his way to anywhere but this dimension. He'd be a tricky one to track down.

That only left poor little Wesley. The watcher no one had bothered to give a spine. Too pathetic to even save himself once he'd spotted the blood trails criss crossing the floor. He'd been fair, given him a chance at taking him down. Looking down at the helpless man struggling to breathe, Wesley's eyes seemed to disagree. He shrugged, fair had many definitions.

There was a hushed 'pop' from behind as a familiar presence washed over him.

"Whistler."

"Angelus."

… … …

"You've been busy," Whistler noted dryly.

"What? No speech about redemption? No sales pitch for the white hats?"

"Would it work?"

"No, but I like the begging."

"I don't beg."

Angelus shrugged once more, picking up his foot from Wesley's chest and pacing around behind the back of the balance demon. "Good for you. Now, go away. I've things to do, people to maim, children to eat."

"I have something you want. You have something I want."

"I thought you didn't beg?"

"Not begging, trading," Whistler replied seemingly without care.

"I don't seem to need anything. Unless you happened to have a chainsaw handy."

Whistler rolled his eyes. "You can surely do better than that."

"Obviously, but time is pressing."

"I want Chase, alive."

Angelus let out a chuckle "And why exactly would I do that?"

"Because I know where Buffy is headed."

Angelus stopped his pacing, fixing the demon with cold eyes. "I can feel her, Angel's claim still holds. I'll find her on my own."

"And how long will that take? Days? Weeks? … Months? How long before The Slayer's strong enough to kill you on sight? Time is not your friend."

"I'm listening." Angelus paused, circling back to the desk delivering a bone crushing kick into Wesley's ribs.

"Buffy's location for Chase. Deal or no deal?"

Angelus strode over towards Cordelia, pleasantly surprised to find her awake, quite and cleverly pretending to be unconscious. "What do you think Cordy? Buffy for you?" Before she could whimper a response he crushed his lips onto hers, savoring every drop of blood staining them. He frowned slightly "No … it's really just not the same." He turned to Whistler. "You have a deal."

"Seattle."

"That's it?"

"A partial answer for a partial hostage."

"She's only missing a few toes."

Whistler raised an eyebrow.

"Okay, most of them." Angelus grinned. "I was in a moment."

… … …

"Fine, whatever, get her out of here. Wesley, my boy. Looks like you're up." Almost absentmindedly he turned while dragging the half conscious man across the blood smeared floor. "I get to keep the toes, right?"

 **A/N:** Buuwhahaha, Angelus has finally made his appearance into the story. Such a fun (and disturbing) character to write.

If your not familiar with Grey's Anatomy and its characters don't sweat it. Just assume they're any other new characters. The references and characters from that TV show will be kept to a minimum. Likewise however, if you've never watched it I'd happily recommend the first 8 or 9 seasons.

Originally, in this story's first incarnation I had an elderly couple pick up Buffy and take her to the hospital. But I decided I wanted to make Whistler more involved and this seemed a good way to fix several minor plot holes I was finding when I reviewed that scene for final posting. Hope you enjoy.

Reviews and recommendations are always appreciated. A reminder that this is my first venture into writing. Please keep your reviews constructive.

Still looking for a BETA. Anyone who's enjoying the story and would like to improve it, please let me know or just take a spin through the posted BETA links. I've had some takers and I appreciate their contributions.


	10. Chapter 10 - Letters From Ghosts

**Chapter 10 - Letters From Ghosts**

 **June 9** **th** **, 2001 – 2000 Hours**

 **PAST - 7 DAYS AFTER BUFFY'S DEATH**

 **Sunnydale, California – 1630 Revello Drive**

Dawn stared at the leather satchel that was hidden in her closet, exactly the same place it had been yesterday when she'd hid it there. She couldn't believe she was about to chicken out, again. She'd lost count of the number of times she'd reached for the bag, unfastening the latch on the top only to close it seconds later.

 _This is ridiculous._

She'd read her sister's diaries hundreds of times; it was practically a time honored younger sibling tradition at this point. The weekly sneakage as soon as her sister left to patrol. Somehow, it just seemed different this time, her own pride at the wiley invasion of her sister's privacy shattered by Giles revelations. That her sister had known, had always known. Always filled those blank pages with a watered down, carefully prescribed amount of truth.

Gathering her courage she gripped the satchel once more, pulling it from its place and locking the door. She gave the knob a firm jiggle, testing it to for her own peace of mind. It would be hours before her wicca live-in nannies would arrive back home, but she wasn't taking any chances. She sat down on her bed, crossing pajama covered legs with the grace of a slayer as she steadily worked up her nerves for what was to come. Her nimble fingers made quick work of the clasp, still practiced from her earlier attempts.

With trembling fingers she pulled the cover back to reveal the set of leather bound journals within. The instant her hand made contact, she gasped, a tingle rushed through her body, a sense of ownership overruling the nervous guilt she felt. Her eyes perused the leather bound journal as she pulled out the first of many, the weight and quality evident in its binding. Her mind quickly connected the dots as she recognized their similarity to Giles' own diaries, realizing that Giles had bought them for her. But the neat loopy handwriting of her sister clearly marked these as her own as it gave the dates covered.

Her nerves began to settle as each journal touched magically pledged itself to its rightful owner. It seemed wrong, given that Faith was technically the current slayer, but now that she'd laid hands on them she couldn't bare the thought of parting with this piece of her sister. Gently opening the cover of the first journal, her heart was racing in anticipation as she braced for what may come.

 _The Slayer Diaries_

 _These Diaries are intend for the chosen_ _and only the chosen._

 _Continuing to read these pages if you are not of the chosen will result in Death. You_ _'ve been warned._

 _A vague disclaimer is nobody's friend._

Dawn smiled as she recognized her sister's serious yet playful tone. Happy she'd let part of what made her so uniquely Buffy be committed to paper. That she wasn't trying to appear to be anything other than herself. She looked back down and continued reading, smiling when she realized there was no pain as warned, that she was worthy.

 _To my successors,_

 _May these diaries help you to understand the struggles of those who came before you._ _M_ _ay they preserve your memory for all that follow once you have gone._ _Though we may fight alone, we are The Slayer, and we are Legion._

 _I am Buffy Anne Summers, The Vampire Slayer, and I was here._

Dawn swallowed as she read her sister's name neatly written for all to see.

No.

Not for all, for the chosen, for her, she realized. She took took a deep breath, realizing that if what Giles had told her was accurate she was about to get a cold, hard dose of the truth. Mentally chastising herself for being nervous again she forced her eyes back down to neat girly writing.

 _I don't know what to even write about today. Words can't begin to explain it. I woke up this morning feeling better than I_ _'ve ever felt in my life_ _. More energy, more vibrant, stronger, faster, unstoppable_ _, just … more._ _Anyway, gotta catch the Bus._

Dawn's forehead wrinkled, she'd seen this exact entry before. Whether blessing or curse, her keyness, or simply a magically created mind, she forgot nothing. And she knew she remembered because she'd long ago in hindsight pieced together that this was when Buffy was called. Obviously copied from her 'Dawn-Approved' Diaries.

 _Okay, first day of school with my new … whatever. Door knobs, big problem … big, big,_ _huge_ _problem_ _!_ _I've twisted three right off the door already._ _The second time_ _I was in the bathroom and got trapped inside. I may have_ _panicked_ _a bit_ _, just a bit. So … maybe, just maybe, the door to the girls bathroom is the proud owner of that new splintery look, certain to be the next trend in transparent carpentry, hypothetically._

 _I've become a freak, an abomination, a … what am I? I tried to keep control of myself during practice but after I bruised Carley_ _'s_ _ankle from gripping it_ _exactly the same way I always do,_ _I told the coach I wasn't feeling well and sat out the rest of practice._ _Definitely_ _lost_ _some cool points for that one._ _I don't know if I'll be able to get this under control enough to even practice again without hurting people. I feel like I've lost something, a small part of who I am._

'Lost something, a small part of who I am,' she repeated in her mind. Is that what Buffy felt? Like she was losing parts of herself?

 _Vampires … Are real._

 _This is too much to process, too scary, too horrible._

 _An older man_ _, Merric, approached me after school. I laughed at first, there was just so much tweed. No one can have that bad of fashion sense, but yet here he was, firmly committed to ruling the world through wool fabric_ _._

 _My laughing stopped the instant he asked a simple question._

 _Have you been having dreams?_

 _Even now I can feel the cold sweats from the nightmare I know I'll have again tonight. Every night it's the same. Powerless as I watch, helpless, each time dying in some new and horrifying way. Teeth ripping open my neck, a sword cleaving through my chest, drowning in blood as my own shattered ribs shred the tissue of my lungs. Even the peaceful 'snap' as my spine severs makes me want to scream and cry the instant I wake._

 _Have you been dreaming you're someone else?_

 _The bastard knew. He knew about everything._

 _The Slayer_

 _W_ _hat the hell is a slayer?_

 _Well, a_ _pparently I am a slayer … Slayer, The._

 _I knew I shouldn't have trusted him, but he knew things. Knew what's happened to me._ _You know what they say about strangers? Turns out_ _t_ _hey really_ _weren't lying._ _The bastard led me into a graveyard, showed me, made me … I can't write any more about this. Mom and Dad are fighting and part of my new_ _gift_ _CURSE! is that I can hear every word perfectly on the other side of the freaking house._ _Apparently_ _Merric isn_ _'_ _t the only one who_ _'_ _s a bastard_ _._

"Holy Crap!" Dawn nearly shouted in a mixture of disgust and shock.

"Whatcha got there niblet?"

Dawn jumped at the voice coming from her window "God! Don't do that!"

Spike broke out laughing.

"Not funny."

"What you reading there?"

Dawn quickly closed the book protectively, "Nothing." Seeing at how that answer simply seemed to intrigue the vampire she decided the elaborate with some truth "Apparently Buffy kept journals, diaries or whatever about her life as the slayer. Giles had them, told me to read them before I decided what I wanted to do."

"Probably a good plan," Spike replied as he sauntered into the room, gracefully sliding over to the edge of her bed like a big cat. "Any good?"

"Dunno, just got started reading them. I'll definitely say her introduction to being the slayer and vampires was a bit more abrupt than mine. You weren't lying about her first meeting with a vampire."

"Not surprised, she got the slayer gig out of the blue; you had big sis to ease you into it, shield you from it. Though I always wondered about the story about her first vamp. Seemed a bit cold, even for a watcher." Spike reached down, grabbing the nearest journal flipping it open.

"No, don't!" Dawn shouted.

Spike threw his head back letting out a shout of pain, quickly slamming the book closed. "What the bloody hell was that?"

Dawn carefully took the book from his hands. "Umm, yeah, apparently Buffy and Giles put some uber strong ward on the journals to keep them from being read by anyone but a slayer."

Spike rubbed his temples trying to ease the pain. "Huh, guess that's what the warning was about. She really didn't want the council of Wankers getting a hold of these, did she."

"Not really, no. Seems like she went through a lot of trouble to make sure they didn't ever read them. Even Giles says he's never tried, though as one of the casters of the spell he may be able to."

"No, if Buffy felt that strongly then Rupes never read them. She probably asked him not to. Then made sure the watchers she couldn't trust wouldn't either."

"Yeah, I guess." Dawn shrugged "It just feels really heavy, you know. Giles already dropped some bombs on me when he stopped by, and hinted cryptically at a few more. I'm not sure I really even want to know. I mean, she never expected me to be the one reading these, but when I touch them, they feel like they're mine."

"Then they are." Spike slipped over towards Dawn, wrapping an arm around her small form. His nose flooding with her addictive scent with each unnecessary breath. Dawn's old scent was similar, but different enough to tell apart with ease. Like the difference between sugar and artificial sweeteners, similar, but just not the same. Taking another deep breath, he tried to ignore what his nose was screaming at him. That Dawn's new scent, was the same as Buffy's, vanilla, sunshine, honey. "You smell like your sister." He pointed out, knowing this time it wasn't just the clothes. That Dawn matched Buffy's scent, exactly.

Dawn shrugged "I ran out of shampoo, used some of hers. Figured vampires would be able to smell more than the shampoo. Of course I started crying again in the shower after that." Dawn sighed.

Spike inhaled deeply again through his nose. "That's not it."

"Must be a slayer thing. Does it hurt? Thinking about Buffy?"

Spike wordlessly nodded.

"Sorry to remind you of her, I'm probably a few lines of reading away from a good cry myself. Can't imagine anyone else is much better, 'cept maybe the witches, and Xan, and Anya, too busy having sex to care," Dawn muttered bitterly.

Spike buried his face in the crook of her neck taking in an audible breath of Buffy's scent. Pretending for a moment that she wasn't gone. "Don't mean they're not hurt'n niblet."

Dawn felt a wave of panic as warning bells started to ring from somewhere in her head.

 _Spike, Vampire, Fangs, Neck_ _._

The shift in her aroma was unmistakable as he picked up the slightest taint of fear. " 'M sorry niblet, 'nt meant to give you a fright, just remembering. I'll go, you got your reading to do."

Dawn caught his hand as he began leaning away, "No, stay. I'm not sure I want to be alone when I read these anyway. Well, at least, not without … you know what, I don't know. You just stay there and keep sniffing, though it is kinda weird, and I'll just keep reading and we'll wallow together. Just don't, you know, eat me."

Spike let out a half hearted chuckle "No biting, deal, can't anyway remember."

Dawn let herself lay back onto her bed, resting comfortably on the tower of pillows. Spike settled in close beside, his face shoved back into the crook of her neck as she felt the occasional rush of cool breath on her skin. Her single bed was small enough that they were forced to snuggle together just to fit on the small mattress. In no time, fear was the farthest thing from her mind.

 _Oh boy,_ _S_ _pike in my bed._

Dawn hardened her resolve, ignoring the location of her young heart's crush, forcing herself to start reading again.

Spike was lost in the scent of delicious slayer as he laid comfortably nestled against his own personal heater. Letting Dawn's warmth saturate him, he closed his eyes and let himself pretend his love hadn't been lost to this world. He knew all the scoobies saw Dawn as partly responsible, she was the Key; they all knew none of this would have happened if she'd never existed.

He knew better, knew the words he'd promised only an hour before he broke them. Buffy died for his failures, because he was too slow to get the best of a demon he knew he could outmatched. Because he was distracted, because he was cocky. And it killed her.

He forced himself to remain stoic as Dawn's scent took a new tang, one all too familiar.

 _S_ _layer in heat._

This was some kind of torture from the powers, that Buffy's younger, sister reading away obliviously, could smell just like her. Matching in every way the girl who'd ensnared two master vampires so thoroughly.

 _Is today the Day I die? That is the first thing I ask myself every morning when I wake up._

 _Not if I have anything to say about it._

 _I've been training with Merrick, my very own official watcher._

 _He's explained a lot about the slayer, the watchers, and of course … vampires. I've had to quit cheerlead_ _ing_ _, which sucks._ _J_ _ust not enough time in the day for training, and cheerleading, and slayage. Not to mention that every time I touch someone, I have to constantly remind myself not to_ _break_ _them. Sooner or later I'll slip, I'll hurt one of my friends, I can't let that happen._

 _Stupid mortals._

 _Merrick warns me there's an especially powerful vampire coming to town and I need to be ready. I don_ _'_ _t know how, but I know. It_ _'s him. Before Merrick even said his name I knew it was Lothos. His face seared into my mind from watching her death a hundred times over as if it were my own each night I sleep._ _Merric_ _k_ _says it_ _'s meant to prepare me. Funny how he always leaves off the rest of the sentence. Prepare me - for my own death._

 _Great, as if there wasn't enough to worry about already. Parents are fighting again, surprise surprise, it_ _'_ _s about me again, and that_ _'s_ _the third time this week. I hate hearing them, I hate hearing what he says when he thinks I can't hear. I'm going to get Dawn and get out of the house_ _._ _I know she can_ _'_ _t make out the words, but_ _I can still hear her trying not to cry in her room._ _Annoying little sister that she is, none of this is her fault and I still love her._

Spike flinched as he smelled the salty tang of tears. "What's the matter Bit?"

Dawn sniffled and wiped away a tear. "She really loved me didn't she?"

Spike leaned up so he could see Dawn face. "Course, she did. Behind all the walls she put up over the years, I think she loved everyone. Maybe even the tiniest part of her even loved me. You need any more proof, just look at … she died for you. And I don't think she'd 'av had it any other way."

"I know, I know she loved me. But it's right here." Dawn sniffled towards the journal. "I … I don't think I can read any more tonight." Dawn brushed away tears as fresh ones took their place.

"Want to go kill something? Always helps me."

"Doesn't that kind of violate the 'wait for me to decide if I want to be a slayer' thing?"

"Not at all. You need to decide if you're going to be a slayer, take up big sis' torch and what not. I'll still train you either way. You're a slayer, nasties 'll always be drawn to you. 'Sides, no rule says you can't fight the forces of darkness for fun. How else am I supposed to get my Jollies."

"I get a stake this time?"

"Absolutely not. They don't teach babies to walk with a crutch do they."

It was hard to argue with his logic, though it seemed like a lot more work than just using a stake. Dawn shrugged in defeat then paused near her dresser. "You mind?"

"Like I haven't seen girl bits before. Yeah, yeah, have your damn privacy," Spike grumbled as he climbed out the window.

"So, another fledgling?"

"No clue what we'll find. But I tell you to run, you run, no questions, no hesitation. Lot of things out here know what the slayer smells like, and since you smell just like sis, any number of them are likely to come running looking to get a piece. Not ready to see you in an all out fight just yet, and you're not bloody ready to be in one, not ready to dance."

Dawn watched as Spike seemed to drift somewhere else. She had little doubt of who he was thinking about as he talked about dancing. Watching her sister fight, she'd made it look so easy. Like she was water flowing through the enemy. "Fine, you say run, I'll run."

Spike adjusted his jacket letting black leather flap in the breeze.

"Spike, why do you always wear that thing?"

" 'Nother time pet. Smell a nasty coming this way."

"Spike sized nasty, or Dawn sized nasty?"

Spike smiled slid into a feral grin "Dawn sized, though big enough that I'll give you a hint. Watch the tail." Instructions given he was gone in a flash of leather.

"Spike?"

… … …

"Spike, you're still here right? Spike?"

… … …

Dawn felt a tinge of nervousness as her protector deserted her. "Umm … Spike?"

"Slayer."

The voice was far from the confident British smoke she was hoping for. The words cold and menacing as Dawn turned to find the creature to whom it belonged. It wasn't a vampire, of that much she was certain. Some form of demon with its greenish scaly skin and horns just big enough to look painful.

 _Where's the tail?_

"Umm … Hi." She flashed a nervous smile.

The creature let out a amused laugh, "We gonna chit chat now, Slayer?"

Dawn tried not to fidget. "Umm … well … do you want to?"

The creature let out another short snort of laughter. Maybe this was why Buffy always teased them.

 _T_ _his part is just_ _awkward_ _._

The creature thankfully broke the stalemate, charging towards her to throw the first punch, which she nimbly dodged. He - she was assuming it was a he - looked strong but was slow enough that dodging its attacks was challenging but still within her skill range. She was enjoying the back and forth as she landed some of her own stikes, finally able to let off steam and give in to the rage that had been building, focusing it into the opponent that a vicious part of her was eager to kill, to slay.

She hadn't really learned any kicks yet so she put everything she had into her next punch, intent on flooring the demon with his jaw knocked somewhere into Texas. At the worst moment it suddenly spun, a long thick tail revealing itself from nowhere and headed right, unavoidably, towards her.

Dawn let out an 'Umfff' as the meaty tail slammed into her chest. The wind knocked from her lungs as her opponent got the upper hand in her daze. Strongs arms quickly pinned her to the ground, followed shortly by an even stronger tail

Dawn panicked and squirmed unable to get out from underneath the smelly weight crushing into her. Her mind was racing trying to find an out, any out, trying desperately to find a weapon she could use. It was hard to breathe and getting harder as the creature pushed down, slowly crushing the life out of her. Panic rose before starting to ease into acceptance as the edges of her vision started to dim from the constriction on her breathing.

'Snap'

Dawn felt the body above her go limp, taking in a large gasp of air before settling into a rapid pant attempting to catch her breath. The demon rolling off beside her into a crumpled pile.

"I warned you about the tail," Spike muttered as he lit up a cigarette

"I … yeah …" Dawn's voice was small as she continue to lay on the ground, rolling away from the smelly pile beside her.

"Got too wrapped up in the punching to pay attention to anything else, right?"

Dawn felt him staring at her but couldn't bring herself to meet his eyes. Twice now she would have died if not for Spike. "Y … yes."

Spike reached down, grabbing her hand and pulling her up. "So let that be a lesson for you, eh?"

Dawn brushed off some of the dust and dirt from her tussle on the ground, her face bright red with a mix of embarrassment and hot blood flowing from the fight. "I lost again."

Spike reached an arm around pulling her close. "Figured you would. Not in the game, too wrapped up in other things." He tapped the side of his head.

Dawn looked up at him, unable to come up with anything to say as they both unconsciously walked in the same direction.

"You did good though, or at least, you did what I was after."

"Nearly get crushed by a giant stinky demon and his stinky demon tail?"

Spike let out a short chuckle. "No, you didn't cry out for help or mercy. Cause 99 times out of 100 ain't nobody gunna be around. Instead you were looking for an out, looking for a weapon. That, was the lesson. Something big sis knew damn well. Depending on friends is all well and dandy, helped keep her alive more 'n a few times, but she had to know how to fight when she was alone, too. Had to be prepared for them to not be there."

"So you're not mad at me?"

"No, you're my niblet. But next time you get that desperate, remember, Slayers have teeth too."

Dawn punched him lightly in the shoulder. "And a world of eeewwww. You expect me to bite whatever the hell that thing was?"

Spike shrugged. "If it means living another day? Hell yeah, I expect you to do whatever you have to. Seen big sis use some down right dirty moves in her days, even by my standards. No such thing as cheatn' in a fight to the death."

 **4 DAYS LATER**

 **Sunnydale, California**

"Mrs. Julian just kept staring at you." Janice broke the long silence as they walked the sidewalk.

"Great, just what I need. It's bad enough I'm stuck back in school. Now some teacher has it in for me," Dawn huffed.

"No, it wasn't like that. She looked … sad."

"Color me relieved, she just thinks I'm pathetic then."

Janice shrugged, unsure of what to say.

"You think I can get better grades if I make myself break out in tears in class?"

"You actually have to try?"

"It was one time, Janice."

Janice held up her hands in mock surrender, mentally losing count of the number of times in the last two days Dawn had randomly broken into tears. "My lips are sealed." She pretend zipped them closed, locking them and throwing the imaginary key over her shoulder.

"It was the drawing," Dawn admitted.

"Are drawings bad?"

"It's the same assignment we were working on when … when I got the news about my mom."

"Oh."

"Yeah … "

"You know what you need? Tonight, you, me, we Bronze it. Think you can give your sister the slip?" Janice paled as soon as she processed the words that slipped through her mouth. Watching as her friend's measured smile instantly fell from her face. "I'm so sorry Dawn, I forgot!" She took a step towards her closest friend, arms ready to beg forgiveness with hugs. No sooner than her arms landed, the lanky brunette slipped her embrace.

"Dawn?"

"I'll see you tomorrow," Dawn managed through choked sobs as she set into a jog. Each step taking her towards a house that was no longer a home. The instant she cleared her friend's view she let her legs free, moving into a sprint. She poured the restless energy that had been building all day into each step. Her weighted backpack bouncing along behind her the only thing keeping her stride within human limits as it disrupted her balance with every jolt.

She'd never been athletic like her sister, never had interest in trying to even compete with her sister. Instead, choosing to pave her own way with different likes and hobbies. Even sprinting along, slayer lungs managed a snort at the irony of that thought. Mystical Keys didn't get a choice, just fake memories of inadequacy and her sister's legacy rammed down her throat.

She shook her head, attempting to physically throw the thoughts from her mind. Pushing her concentration to the sound of her heartbeat finally picking up in her ears, the sound of rushing wind and bouncing books. She'd never been athletic, but now running felt like the most natural thing in the world. Each step just as effortless as the last. She felt free.

Dawn bounded over the few steps to the front porch of her house. Nimble steps quickly bringing her motion to a halt, perfectly balanced and stationary just as her hand touched the knob. She hesitated, checking her face ensuring no tears were visible. Satisfied that the slight glisten of sweat forming would hide the evidence she quietly slipped inside, unsurprised to find Giles nose deep in a pile of papers on the kitchen table as slayer-light steps brought her closer.

It was the second day of Giles' great foray into world of Summers paperwork. One pile for hospital bills, another birth certificates, electric bills, house payments, the piles were endless. She didn't envy him, she didn't envy anyone who had to deal with such things.

"Hey Giles!" She tried for happy, managing at best a lack of concern or worry in her voice.

She bit back a genuine laugh as she watched him jump at her voice. Giles' obsession with anything written so complete that little else in the world registered. It wasn't much, but at least in that moment she felt just a little bit better. A instant where her mind was free of the clutches of depression she knew would soon return.

"As I once warned your sister - if you insist on using your new talents to test my … awareness, I shall mount a bell on you."

 _And there it went._

Dawn let out a sigh, her moment of amusement destroyed by the very Buffy-like warning ran through a Giles filter. Meeting his eyes, which were clearly blinking back threatening tears, she had little doubt where the bell mounting threat had originated.

She let him keep his dignity, slipping into the living room to drop off her backpack while her inherited watcher-father collected himself. She slipped back into the room after a count of twenty.

"I found something you may wish to see." Giles thrust an envelope towards her.

Dawn forced a smile. "What's the what?"

"Best if you read it yourself."

 _That sounds ominous._

"That sounds ominous," Dawn repeated out loud, hesitating for a moment before taking a seat.

The envelope was old and yellowed, no doubt the reason the man had been drawn to it. 'Buffy' written in Joyce swirly handwriting on an otherwise barren enclosure.

"When I saw it noted for Buffy I took a look. It was already opened, by your parents I presume."

Dawn nodded dumbly, her attention fully on the letter as she pulled from its protective home, quickly unfolding the heavy stationary. A woman's cursive showing showing which this time was clearly not her mother's.

 _Elizabeth Anne,_

 _How does a mother beg forgiveness from the child she will never meet? I could give you the sob story, one older than time. The story of a foolish young woman who ended up pregnant by her own ignorance and delusions of love. I could pretend that I had no other options but to give you away._

 _I won't leave you with that burden Elizabeth. The truth, is that I had a choice, and I chose to live the life I wanted at your expense, just as your father has chosen the same. Hate, Elizabeth, is a very simple emotion, and you have every right to hate me. Forgiveness? I won't beg to be forgiven, because I don't deserve to be._

 _Don't look to the past for answers, for yours lay only in a future of your own making. Life is hard Elizabeth, you, must be harder._

 _You have my love, and my respect for the woman you will become._

 _-Buffy_

 _Grand Cayman National Bank - Account No. 1562221-991_

 _I may not be able to give you the life you deserve, but I can at least make sure you have something when it's needed._

"Giles, what is this?"

He gave a humorless chuckle. "Likely the reason the council never knew Buffy was a potential." He thrust another piece of paper towards Dawn's shaky hand.

 _RECORD OF ADOPTION_

 _Elizabeth Anne (Loraine) - Buffy Anne Summers_

 _On this 3_ _rd_ _Day of April, 1981 the applicants Joyce Summers and Hank Summers are hereby granted …_

"Buffy's adopted," Dawn said numly as she clutched the official looking document.

"Yes, that appears to be the case."

"Buffy's adopted?"

"Yes"

"Buffy's … adopted."

"For the third time, yes, Buffy was adopted."

… … …

… … …

"And you didn't know?" Dawn's mind slowly began to cut through her confusion.

Giles nodded, "No. But as I said, it explains why we were unaware of Buffy until she was called. Potentials are almost always descendants of other potentials. The Watchers Council tracks their blood lines very carefully. It's primarily how they're located."

"So they didn't know either?"

"They surely knew once she was called and they looked into her background, but they never told me. It all appears to have been done legitimately."

"I need to sit down."

… … … "You are sitting down."

"Right."

Giles struggled to force a smile. "Will you be training with Spike tonight?"

"Don't change the subject Giles." Dawn's mind was clearing, recovering from the initial shock. "Who were they?"

"I've no idea." Giles sighed, handing a birth certificate to Dawn. "There's no information for the mother or father, hospital, anything. Just a date of birth. Your sister was a foundling, Dawn. Whomever gave her up didn't want anyone to know, not even her."

"Loraine?"

"Likely made up. In the proceedings of the adoption it was changed to Summers, along with her first name to Buffy."

"Oh."

… … …

"Was she so terrible?" Dawn asked in a soft voice.

"Pardon?"

"My sister had four parents. Three of them didn't want her." Dawn struggled to keep the heartbreak from her voice. She was the Key, made from Buffy. The letter doubly painful as words rejecting her sister equally applied to her.

"We don't know what circumstances led Buffy's birth parents to give her up." Giles let his glasses clatter unceremoniously onto the table.

"They didn't hide it Giles. They just didn't want her. It's right there in the letter." She wasn't sure if she was talking about Buffy or herself as a tear managed to slip free.

Giles sighed, "People do stupid things Dawn." They were the only words he could find to distract his mouth from cursing the pillocks who'd abandoned the girl he'd learned to cherish. Dawn already knew her genetics were tied to her sisters, that Buffy's true parents would also hold a piece of her own history.

He watched as Dawn ducked her head in a vain attempt to hide the forming tears. He nearly told her right there, for what little good it would do. Oh, the monks had hidden her well, physically at least, but the more he studied her origins the more he was certain. All the clues were there, from the bossy attitude right down to the way she wiggled her nose. Some amazingly cruel twist of fate that Buffy would be given the one thing she wanted above all others, and not even realize what she had.

Life couldn't be created by magic, no matter how powerful. Restored, perhaps, but not created. The monks had needed something to start with, something with the potential for life. Something that tied The Key to the Slayer with a near unbreakable bond. He cursed himself every day knowing what had happened. How they'd managed to secure one of the precious seeds that gave women alone the power to create life. To have children, to have a daughter.

 **A/N:** A big round of thanks to LadyWinterlight for being patient enough to BETA this chapter for me.

Who knew it was so easy to miss that many comas ...


	11. Chapter 11 - Slayer In Seattle

**A big round of thanks to LadyWinterlight from** **who BETA'd this chapter for me.**

 **General Warning:** Graphic Violence. Some scenes in this chapter got a bit cringe worthy. If you've made it this far you probably won't care, but, I thought It'd be courteous to give you a heads up.

 **A/N:** While not involving the actual plot of the show, I will be featuring two characters from Grey's Anatomy for a while. As I said before, if you're unfamiliar, don't fret, just assume their original characters. For those familiar, this ties in around mid season two.

 **Chapter 11 - Slayer In Seattle**

 **August 23** **rd** **, 2001 – 0440 Hours**

 **Present - 7 Hours After Buffy's Resurrection**

 **Seattle – Seattle Airport**

Dr. Miranda Bailey paced, meandering in no particular direction, trying in vain to coax her legs back to life after the hours long flight. It was late, or early depending on your point of view, and there was still an ambulance ride and a twelve hour surgery to look forward to before sleep could come. But, tired as she was, exhausted even, she still had to bite back the smirk as her eyes lazily drifted towards her intern, Meredith Grey.

The hours of silence on her part had built the apprehension about upcoming punishments to a near intolerable level. The dread and anticipation of what would come having marinated nicely during the flight, leaving the young doctor's worry clearly written on her face. It was good to see the worry lines start to form on the attractive younger woman. The weathered look starting to creep through her flawless features was a far more suitable appearance for a surgeon. It gave Bailey a warm glow of satisfaction.

There was a reason she was nicknamed 'The Nazi.'

"We'll be back in a few minutes. And the ground crew will be along shortly. You don't have to hang around."

In her mind, Bailey rolled her eyes, her face remaining outwardly stoic. "I know the drill, soon as our ride's here, we're gone." She hefted the cooler towards the pilots, drawing their attention to the innocent looking, but clearly labeled insulated box protecting the human liver within. She was well aware there was little time to waste.

With a curt nod the men were gone, off to find sleep like she so desperately desired.

The organ harvest had gone smoothly; depressing as always, but smoothly. The duration of the flight had been uneventful, and other than the occasional - and very entertaining - groveling by an ever more nervous Meredith, quite boring.

Murphy, of course, had chosen this moment to make his appearance. The three hour flight having nearly doubled in length while the plane circled the airstrip, short exactly one set of deployed wheels from the number required to qualify as a landing and not a crash. The confines of the learjet had given a very disconcerting first-hand education of all the malfunctions 'small animals' could create. Stuck listening helplessly as the co-pilot conversed with the ground crew and engineers as they walked him through the manual override of a hydraulic something or another to force the required wheels to the ground. The same ground crew who should already be here, making sure this never happened again. Delays were unacceptable, and unlike most, she knew exactly how much the hospital paid for this Charter service.

Of course, now the ambulance that had been waiting for their arrival had been called away. Needed elsewhere as they loitered uselessly in the air, leaving them stuck until the hospital could send another. Deciding to apply some motivation she'd nearly pulled out her cell phone when a pair of men - presumably the ground crew - walked out of the blackness of a morning yet to see the sun and into the illumination of the hanger.

"You gonna fix this so it never happens again?" Bailey nearly growled, pointing her thumb over her shoulder towards the resting plane, while her eyes raked over the men. She could understand that it was late, early, less than ideal hours, but she still expected the charter company's employees to look the part. The almost amused glance they gave each other only served to raise her ire. "Something funny? I'm trying to save a man's life here! Do your damn job, and do it right, or I'll make sure we find someone that will." She quickly snapped the words.

She'd seen greater men cower beneath her icy glare. Seen them run, seen the the fear in their eyes. Instead, both men sniffed the air. Their expression twisting into a smile as emotionless eyes met her own. LIke they'd found something they liked, both men looking at her like she was nothing. It was unnatural, the emotionless eyes rising to met her own. In that moment she knew something was wrong, and the hairs rising on her neck agreed.

"One of you smells ... delicious." The younger of the men purred as the other nodded in silent agreement.

"What's going on? Who are you?" Meredith asked.

Bailey could see similar warning bells going off in her intern's head, the same ones in her own mind ringing loudly. Her body recognized something was very wrong, a deeply seated fear, primal, instinctively yelling at her to run.

Before she could react or speak, the men closed the gap. Over twenty yards gone in single long breath, a pair of mangled faces and yellow eyes staring intently at her now from mere feet away. Both taking a deep breath, as if knowing the simple act would unnerve her even more.

"Not her." The older man spoke calmly.

Bailey felt a shiver run down her spine as she watched two pairs of predatory eyes drift towards the younger, more attractive woman nearby. Her intern was a pain in the ass, but no woman deserved the fate their eyes promised.

"Meredith, run!" She threw her weight into the closest disfigured man, adrenaline masking the scent of horrid breath as she took him off guard, slamming into his gut. She could only hope to buy the time needed for Merideth to get away, to get help and return before their attackers decided to settle on an older target to quench their lust.

But she was Dr. Bailey, The Nazi, she wouldn't go down without a fight. With all her might she swung the cooler - and the late Mr. Jameson's liver contained within - towards the face of the other man.

As she felt it fail to connect, an impossibly powerful hand clenched around her neck.

For the third time she could remember Buffy's eyes fluttered open to a world filled with pain. Each time she was certain hell had done its worst, it found new and horrid sensation to inflict upon her. Her eyes opened enough to see her hands, the skin on both showing a bluish tinge as her entire body shook uncontrollably. The numbness she'd felt those first few peaceful moments of consciousness was long gone, overwhelmed by a thousand aches and pains as it felt like her body was trying to expel a surplus of needles.

A nearby scream broke the noise of her heart hammering into her ears. Her body jerked in surprise, the violent movement the last push needed to rip the sleeve of her somehow acquired jacket. As she was falling, her muddled mind finally realized that it had been the only thing keeping her from plunging out of the cubby where she'd stowed away.

The tumbling, graceless exit from the landing gear compartment was a far cry from the smooth entry she'd stealthily performed earlier. She had no idea how much time had passed, the cramped cubby apparently comfortable enough to find sleep she couldn't remember attempting. How sleep had even been possible will the ear shattering noise she remembered was a mystery. Sleep that had done nothing to quench the desire for more, just left her with a body full of aches and shivers and a demon pounding in her head.

"Slayer."

From the venom in the voice it was obvious she was interrupting. She turned her head, lazily letting it roll along the concrete until the peculiar sight came into blurry view. A horrid bloodied face just inches away from a blonde's neck while another woman was held midair from her own. The dark skinned woman too frantic in attempts to breathe to even notice her arrival while the other woman looked too wide eyed in shock to process anything.

Her mind told her to get to her feet, to run, continue fleeing into the blackness until it was safe to rest. But at the instant she sighted the men, something inside sprang to life. Something dark and vicious, something barely contained and begging to be set free, yearning and demanding blood and death.

She knew which voice had won when she felt her throat vibrate as a growl echoed in the well lit hanger. Her aches and pains began to fade as her body prepared itself for the fight, leaving sluggish and disobedient limbs to wrench her to her feet. Her mind again screamed at her to flee, but the other darker half of what she was, some part of her very essence, drove her to stay, had to stay, to watch them die; she needed them to die, to suffer. A feral smile crept across her lips. The presence within made her feel almost gleeful as images of pure, unfiltered and unrestrained violence flashed through her mind.

There was a flash of guilt as she pictured lifeless eyes staring back at her. The lives she'd taken already tonight. Whatever it was within that was driving her crushed the building regret ruthlessly. The sense of evil and wrongness rolling off these creatures was so intense that her gut clenched in disgust. A feeling similar to the town of evil, only magnified and focused to two singular points. These were vampires. She didn't know how she knew, but she knew, knew in her very soul.

These were vampires.

And vampires deserved to die.

Meredith could hear the sound of Dr. Bailey struggling somewhere behind her, just out of view. Her own head wretched painfully to the side by the vice like hand threaded through her hair. Another arm crushed across her breasts and arms, holding her so securely she felt like she was a child being held by their parent.

Grimly she recognized the sounds she was making, the muffled gurgling, the sound of someone trying and failing to breathe. It was a sound she'd become all too familiar with during her brief tenure as a doctor. The sound of someone on their way to whatever afterlife awated. And somehow she knew it was Dr. Bailey making that noise.

 _You wouldn't believe the things I've seen, even if I told you._

The words of her Aunt repeated in her mind. She'd laughed when she'd first heard them. Perhaps it had been the wine, or the tequila, or just that some of the seriousness in her voice had been lost over the telephone. But, somehow, in this moment, she had to agree. She wouldn't have believed.

Because, try as she might, she couldn't understand this. Couldn't make sense of what her mind was telling her, because it was obviously wrong. Wrong, because it was telling her was that she wasn't about to be raped, that her situation had become somehow far more dire. The deformed face and yellow eyes, the fangs currently embedded in her neck, that all of it belonged to a vampire happily slurping away on her blood.

And that was just crazy. Right?

She could feel herself getting weaker as blood flowed from her punctured carotid. She was a doctor, she knew how severe a rupture in that blood vessel could be. That if this continued she'd have only minutes to live.

Her confusion compounded when for no reason at all the thing – what she was certain was a vampire – stopped slurping, letting a jet of her own blood spurt into the corner of her view. Somehow her mind managed to find the waste of her blood offensive as she felt the vampire's entire attention shift to the young woman who'd literally fallen out of the landing gear of the plane, right in front of them both.

"Slayer."

There was an awe in his voice, mixed with a disdain to which she could currently relate. It was obvious what had happened as her mind tried to ignore reality, happily drifting off onto another tangent and far from any vampires. Yes, it was obvious, the problems with landing, the sluggish way the girl found her feet. It was remarkable she was even alive with the altitudes they'd reached. Merideth's mind raced as she listed off reason after reason, from hypoxia to hypothermia, why once again her mind was lying to her. That the girl in front of her should be dead.

As if on cue, the girl made it all of ten shaky steps towards them before tripping on her own feet, crashing to the concrete floor below. She'd grimly assumed the girl had just proven her correct, had an aneurysm or stroke, or one of the dozens of different ways a nitrogen bubble in your blood could kill you. Yet once again she could swear her mind was lying to her. Because not only did the girl stand up once more, but she could swear she heard a growl.

The vampire released her, letting her hit the ground like unwanted trash as her legs failed to find footing. Her hand instinctively clamped onto the wound on her neck, her eyes landing on Bailey who'd also been similarly discarded. Her eyes finding Bailey's, equally as shocked as the two battered doctors somewhat assured one another that they weren't, in fact, crazy.

The girl struck first, the helpless glaze in her eyes disappearing with a punch so fast and brutal all Meredith saw was the vampire skidding on the painted floor in the opposite direction. Her small form exerted such imposible force that she herself staggered backwards as Newton demanded.

The other vampire, looking wholly unimpressed, instead smirking smugly as he dove into the fight. The pair wasting little time before fiercely trading blows.

Buffy winced as a fist slammed into her ribs. With no fat or meat to cushion the fist, she felt the bone yield, the noise of an internal crack reaching her ears as it traveled through her skeleton. Only wirey sinew dutifully held the fragments of her ribs in place kept them from cutting even deeper into her lungs.

She knew she was outmatched. Even fifteen seconds into the fight she was spent, simply too rundown from the opening night in hell. Only adrenaline and primal rage were forcing her body to keep moving. She'd only seconds before the younger vampire gathered himself and rejoin the fight, before two on one made her struggle hopeless. She forced a strike from her left side, the muscles of her shoulder long ago crippled making the punch sluggish and underpowered. She'd known it was foolish before she'd even started, but feeling her arm grabbed she knew she'd pay for the mistake.

He was skilled, not wasting time or effort as he pulled her off center. Using the window of opportunity to slip neatly behind her, ripping her arm back forcing her elbow onto his knee as he continued to pull and twist. She let out a horse scream as she felt her elbow dislocate, the vampire adding a twist causing ligaments in her wrist to strain and pop. Slamming her head back mid-scream, she felt it connect, hard skull obliterating nasal cartilage already trying to dip towards her neck.

She wrenched her arm free just in time for the second vampire to arrive, returning the favor with a kick connecting solidly into her forehead. As she flew through the air, it was difficult to be glad that he'd hit one of the thickest parts of her skull. Her mind momentarily wandered during her short moment of flight, trying to piece together how she knew all of this. The landing instantly returned her focus to the fight as she tumbled across the floor, skidding into the nearest doctor with enough force to earn a grunt.

She knew she was going to lose, briefly wondering what happened when you died in hell. If you stayed dead, or woke once more, only to start it all over again? The thought sent a shiver down her spine. Made her more determined than ever not to die, to not wake up trapped underground once more.

She could taste blood in her mouth. Her vision now even more blurry than before after her brain was bounced off the inside her head. It was just one more in the sea of other injuries to be ignored.

She wouldn't give up, couldn't just quietly embrace what was sure to come. Her lips twisted into a smirk as she saw a skinny pencil peeking out of a pocket in the doctor's coat. How, why, she knew these things she had no idea, but that tiny sliver of wood was all she needed to even the playing field. The presence within demanded blood and violence, victory at all costs. Lusted at the thought of causing as much death and mayhem as possible before her body physically gave out.

Meeting the wide eyes of the woman looking back at her she gave the only instruction she could.

"R..n." The words came out of her hoarse throat like a wheeze, but from the look on the woman's face she'd understood.

No sooner than she'd attempted the words, a vice-like grip seized the side of her neck, lifting her to her feet. She played along, keeping her muscles limp, acted the part of the half conscious victim, letting herself be moved like a rag doll as the younger vampire brought her face to face, practically salivating at her blood. She felt cool breath on her neck, a cold tongue licking the flesh just above the blood pulsing below. The vampire was so enthralled as he slid his teeth into creamy flesh, that he never heard the shout of warning from his sire, never noticed the pencil sliding between his ribs until it's withdrawal.

Buffy gave a feral smile as the vampire staggered back in surprise. The shock and disbelief written clearly on his face as his unlife ended in a cloud of dust. The responsible pencil clutched tightly in her hand as his sire let out an roar at the loss of his childe. The nasally accent from his broken nose detracting from its intimidation.

She tried to react in time, tried to dodge and move. But the sire wasn't as easily fooled as his dusty childe and she was beyond exhausted. The master vampire wasn't bothering to toy with her as he had before, wasting little time as fist after fist found their way through her blocks and slammed into her face.

One of the doctors seemed to have chosen this moment to find their courage, attacking futilely rather than attempting to flee. She'd no idea what they'd done to end up in this strange hell, but it was noble of them to try. The enraged vampire simply batted the dark skinned woman to the ground, but, in doing so, gave her the slightest of openings.

She lept towards the distracted vampire. Pencil-stake clutched tightly in her right hand aimed at his heart. Her wrist was seized well before it even approached his heart, the pencil ripped from her hand. But the small mass of her body carried through. A swing with her flailing left arm distraction enough to reach her goal. Her inner darkness practically bounced in joy as her teeth bit into the soft flesh of his face. Clamping down through flesh and meat, her teeth forced their way through the edges of his cheek, eye socket, and into the gooey nuget within. She felt the burst of foul fluid just as he ripped his head back in surprise.

She spat out the chunks of cheek and eyeball with a red smile, laughing at his surprise. That for a moment they'd traded positions in their never ending battle, that slayer had bitten a vampire in turn.

Before the last of the pieces of flesh had hit the ground his shock had given way to rage. Letting out a roar, his reaction was so fast she was still laughing as her body was slammed into the ground. The master vampire landed on top, straddling her, ragning down wild punches left and right as her head pinballed off the concrete. Her laughter finally silenced as her world turned to black.

Meredith watched, horrified, as Dr. Bailey was batted away like an annoyance, as both vampire and girl inflicted horrorid wounds on each other. She'd treated similar things before but she'd never actually witnessed them inflicted. Never heard the cries of pain, the 'splat' of impacting meat, or the 'pop' of a joint being destroyed right before her very eyes.

The pencil clattered to the ground, the sound muffled by a roar of pain and the wet slap of fists pounding into flesh. The vampire was so lost in his anger he never noticed, never saw her sneak towards him as his fists pounded into the girl's ruined face. She plunged the pencil through his heart from behind, taking advantage of his distraction. She was relieved she'd both missed any ribs, and similarly horrified at what she'd done. It wasn't until he burst into ash that she let out her breath, relieved she hadn't committed murder.

She could already feel the bruises forming as her hand kept pressure on her neck, still controlling the bleeding underneath. Her eyes met Dr. Bailey's before both sets drifted towards the girl who'd saved their lives.

 **One Day Later**

 **Seattle – Seattle Grace Hospital**

The world slowly began to emerge to her senses on more as she crept back into consciousness and, for the briefest of moments, she was back in heaven. The warmth of soft surroundings enveloping her, her body perfectly comfortable, at ease.

Beep.

The noise forced its way into her mind, grating on her senses as it collapsed the wonderful illusion her mind had painted. Once again feeling began to slowly creep into her skin. A steady build up until once again her brain was overwhelmed with touch and pressure, hot and cold. The experience was equally as horrid as the last time it happened. As if on cue everything else, each fracture, each bruise, each cut and scrape pronounced its existence, nearly making her cry out in pain.

 _Hell, she was still in hell._

Beep.

The grating noise of the beeping equipment repeated. Her mind was so much clearer this time, all the more vulnerable to horrid sensations assaulting her.

Finally relenting, she let out a groan of pain as silently as possible, taking care not to rouse attention. Once more, in a scenario which seemed determined to repeat itself, she had no idea where she was. But something in the depths of her mind already deeply disliked everything about her surroundings.

She concentrated on her breathing, working hard to tune out the electronic man trying to pound her brain to mush with noise alone. This was truly not what she'd expected from hell. Not that it wasn't living up to its name in horrid and unexpected ways, but it was decidedly less fire and brimstone than seemed appropriate.

Again she was left wondering where her thoughts had come from. The small moments of clarity where things made sense for inexplicable reasons. Each time lost once more in a sea of confusion.

Her thoughts were interrupted as she recognized the constant scratching of a pen on paper, the rustling of paper.

She wasn't alone.

The new sound attempted to compete with the non-stop beeping in its relentless desire to cause her agony.

 _Hell._

The presence was back, as dark and twisted as always, whispering soft words of encouragement to do the unspeakable to whomever was responsible for all this horrid noise.

 _Whoever was scratching away with that_ _goddamn_ _pen!_

 _It would be impossible to use if it just happened to become lodged in their brain._

The second the thought crossed her mind she felt badly for even considering it. There was something wrong with her. Something very, very wrong.

 _Hell was driving her insane._

She silently let out a sigh of relief when the pen momentarily stopped, only for the intense crackling of paper to take its place, nearly making her visibly wince.

"How is she?"

Buffy clenched her teeth when the door closed with a thud from the new arrival.

"She's a damn mess that's how! Three broken ribs, sprained wrist, dislocated elbow, and a laceration running shoulder to back that's deep enough to hit bone in places. Add in the hypoxia, hypothermia, and a minor skull fracture and two concussions and she should be dead. Damn fool, hiding away in an airplane like that."

"She's definitely lucky to be alive."

"Luck?" The woman scoffed, "Take a look at this."

"Wrong X-ray Dr. Bailey."

"No, It's not. That's from this morning. Here-" There was another rustling noise, "this is from her intake scans yesterday."

There was a gasp as Buffy tried not to be unnerved that she'd apparently lost an entire day.

"That's not possible. This fracture's at least a few weeks old."

"Damn well shouldn't be; then again, someone weighing a hundred and five pounds as of this morning shouldn't be able to punch a vampire hard enough to send him flying through the air."

"We don't know-"

There was a 'crack' of a hand landing home on the back of a head.

"Vampires Grey. I figured with those two new holes hidden under the neckline of your sweater, you of all people would be the last one to play ignorant."

"At least your skin tone hides bruises, do you know how much concealer I'm wearing right now?" The woman sighed. "Fine … vampires. Do we have and idea what **she** is then?"

Buffy chanced opening her eyes. Just a tiny slit, enough to catch the shrug from the same shorter, dark skinned woman she'd seen last night.

"Look at her chart and you tell me."

No sooner than her eyes were barely opened she nearly cried out in pain as a beam of sunlight reflecting perfectly into her eyes.

 _Since when the hell did ... hell have sunlight?_

"This has to be a mistake, that much adrenaline would kill you. This is from her intake? You ran the labs again right?" It was more statement than question by the tone of the younger woman. As soon as the sun was done trying to blind her she recognized the younger woman from last night.

Buffy caught the movement of a hand followed by another 'crack' and a yelp of surprised pain.

"No, I didn't run them again, not yet, and keep your damn voice down, or so help me, every single rectal exam in the hospital has your name on it for the next month. Did you really expect her to be normal?

"Then why'd you order the tests in the first place?"

"It's procedure Grey."

Buffy breathed a sigh of relief as the two noisily made their way out of the room. Now she was only being driven slowly insane by the machines still beeping away. She let her eyes fully open, carefully ducking her head into a thin line of shadow crossing her bed.

 _Hospital._

Where the word came from, she had no idea. Just one more thing she just seemed to know and, apparently, despise.

It was in fact daylight outside. And far from the burnt landscape and volcanoes she was pictureing in her mind, it looked exactly the same as everything else she'd seen thus far. Only instead of the blurry cityscapes, things were clear and crisp. Both mind and eyes free of the earlier fog that had plagued them.

Experimentally, she sat up. Even with the slow, measured movements the injuries to her back and ribs made themselves instantly known. Her head still spun slightly from the many times it'd been bashed into the ground. Each injury adding its own special twist to her misery.

Her entire body still burned with sensation, but she could feel the isolated pockets where things were obviously worse. Experimentally flexing her arm, she was glad to see at least some things had begun to mend.

As she was overcome with another dizzy spell, she resigned herself to playing the dutiful patient for the time being. Letting herself fall back into the bed she winced as stitches and partly mended bones protested. Her head fell in sunlight once again, blinding her eyes.

 _This was definitely hell._

Meredith let her boss guide the way towards wherever it was they were headed as both doctors continued down the hallway.

"She's just a kid."

Dr. Bailey nodded sadly, "Past puberty by the x-rays, maybe nineteen or twenty."

"Someone's going to notice things are off with her blood work pretty soon," Meredith noted. "Then they're going to assume it's wrong, then they're going to re-run the labs."

"It's what any responsible doctor would do."

"So, what are we going to do?"

"Nothing."

"What?!"

"There's nothing to be done. Not without raising suspicion."

"It's not right," Meredith sulked "She saved our lives. We both know as soon as someone notices, she's going to be studied like a lab rat."

"She's still a person. She has rights."

"Let's hope so, the police want to talk to her when she wakes up," Meredith warned.

"There's not much we can do about that," Dr. Bailey admitted, continuing down the hall into a small computer lab so seldomly used there was a fine layer of dust coating the chairs.

"We're not … **doing** … anything," Meredith tried not to shout. "Which is my point."

"Sit down, Grey."

"Why?"

"You graduated college, figure it out," Bailey growled.

... ... ...

"Research Grey, research. Now sit your butt down. You want to help the girl, here's a list of what I want you to search. Don't leave until you find something to explain all this or I'll suture that skinny ass of yours to the chair," Bailey ordered as she walked out the door.

"Have you slept yet?"

The words fell uselessly on swinging doors. She could probably guess the answer. The Nazi had a medical mystery, a vampire mystery, and a new lease on life after the near miss with the grim reaper. How could food and sleep possibly compare?

She sighed, sitting at a computer and turning it on, listening as the hard drive sluggishly spun itself to life. Looking down at the sheet of paper clutched in her hand she sighed again as she read the first few lines.

' _Slayer'_

She vaguely remembered the word at the very top of the list. Years of college, medical school, and she was about to spend the next several hours googling words straight out of a horror novel. Admittedly, she'd do it anyway when she got home; that is, after she'd slept in her own bed for the first time since the start of this two-day-long marathon.

She cursed the computer, the ancient machine deciding it couldn't function without the painfully slow process of updating itself over the hospital's equally antiquated internet.

She leaned back in the chair, her hand palming her phone nervously. Trying to talk herself out of taking a leap of faith in an attempt to get her questions answered.

 _You wouldn't believe the things I've seen._

The words of her Aunt, sort of Aunt, repeated in her mind once more. She knew, somehow she knew. The thought that had been nagging at her since yesterday finally refused to be ignored. A quick glance at the dusty CRT screen confirmed she had plenty of wait left before she could begin her task. Steeling herself, she dialed, smiling when she heard the young voice on the other end. Praying that this phone call didn't end with her calling the psych floor her new home.

"Hey Cassie, it's Mer."

 **Hours Later**

It seemed like forever that she'd lain there. Hours upon agonizing hours where she moved as little as possible. Moving led to more touching and touching hurt. The uncomfortable feeling of fabric brushing against her skin sent tidal waves of information to overload her brain. Of course, the only partly healed gashes, bruises, and broken bones covering her body also encouraged her stationary waiting game.

Nightfall.

That's when she'd force her body to leave. The selected time giving both an anticipated reduction of staff and and the cover of darkness. Not to mention, precious time for her body to heal. She could honestly use a break before being thrown back into hell-lite, the discount resort of the river styx.

The waiting was torture. Her body was exhausted, but her mind yearned to be anywhere but here. Her stoic act of unconsciousness thus far had fooled everyone coming into the room. She silently cursed at the fiery star still blinding her, simply refusing to cooperate and descend below the horizon.

"She hasn't done anything detective!" She recognized the voice of the doctor. Dr. Bailey, she remembered, one of the women from her first night and again from earlier. It was nice to see at least someone wasn't out to get her.

She let out a silent sigh. From the voices she could hear outside she knew her time was up. She'd overheard bits and pieces as people came to and fro, learned the police wanted to talk to her. She knew what police were, another nugget of information mysteriously accessible. But why hell had police was another matter altogether. The only logical conclusion her mind had been able to find that this was in fact not hell in the traditional sense which simply confused her even more. Hell-Lite she'd dubbed the location of her current torment.

"Look Dr. Bailey, I don't really care about your assurances."

"We get that you like the kid," another voice added. "But the California Highway Patrol want her for questioning regarding a missing person, and stolen car. And by your and Dr. Grey's own admission, she stowed away on a your charter flight to get here. They don't just let that kind of stuff slide these days."

 _There's a California in hell-lite?_

Buffy didn't really want to move, not yet. The warmth of the bed was a poor imitation of the comforts she'd been ripped from, but an imitation nonetheless. Moving hurt; if she held perfectly still, didn't move the fabric over her skin, the discomfort of the sensation was almost bearable.

"Yes, and she'd already been half beaten to death when she did. You catch the person responsible for that?"

"We can't comment on an ongoing investigation ma'am."

"Of course you can't." … … … "She hasn't been cleared by the hospital, she's not even awake yet."

"That's fine, we don't have to question her yet. We're just here to make she she doesn't run for it when she does."

"Have you looked at the injury report? She's not running anywhere, Detective."

"Crawling then. Look Dr. Bailey, I really don't care. California Highway Patrol are the ones with the hard on for this girl. She's wanted for questioning and deemed a flight risk regardless of injuries. She gets cuffed."

Buffy rolled her eyes behind closed eyelids as the door loudly slammed open, then closed. She was already in hell, hell-lite, wherever she was. Adding the confines of whatever a jail cell consisted of here held little appeal.

Whatever it was that was inside of her seemed to feel the same, just as violently opposed to the detective's plan. She recognized the signs as once more her body perceived a threat; the pain began to fade, her senses sharpening, her weary body filling with a nervous energy demanding release. She could hear each foot fall in slow motion as it landed. She'd already memorized the size and layout of the room, easily tracking all three of their positions as they moved.

The anger built with each moment they approached, intent on forcing their will on her. She wanted to hurt these men and she really didn't care how or why, simply for the violence of the act. Reminding herself that these weren't vampires, she worked to squash her rising bloodlust.

She heard the jingle of the cuffs as they were fastened to the bed rail. For a split second she thought about biding her time. Letting them think they'd won, leave her in peace until she decided to break the cuffs or the bed. Whichever came first. Somehow, she felt assured that this would, in fact, work.

The voice pressing in the back of her mind with an animalistic ferocity was having none of it. Instead, presenting disturbing thoughts she was finding harder and harder to disagree with.

Though Dr. Bailey would never admit it, the subtle implications of a potential murder at the young woman's hands stripped away at some of her reservations against restraining her. She didn't know what to do; not that this really mattered at the moment, she wasn't about to challenge the detective to a duel. Her scalpels, polished though they may be, just didn't quite compete with the glocks neatly holstered on their hips.

There was a bland tone from the heart monitor in the background. A simple notification that the established pattern had deviated.

Seconds later, the sole conscious detective was looking up from the floor. Just in time for a tiny fist to slam ruthlessly into his face. From the way his head jerked back from the blow, she figured neurology had a newly concussed patient headed their way.

It was startling how little noise she made as the young woman's lithe figure slid gracefully across the room. Just the slightest noise of skin on the hard floor keeping her movements from achieving perfect silence.

Looking into the hard green eyes, she couldn't help but shrink slightly as they studied her. Her once-savior coldly assessing whether or not she was a threat. Bailey prayed the girl wasn't the criminal the detectives implied.

The fight she'd witnessed last night had seemed evenly matched, if even slanted against Jane Doe's favor. This, two adult men, she'd made look like child's play. Standing mere feet away, she had little doubt that if 'Jane' decided that she wanted her dead, there was little she could do about it.

She let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding as the blonde put a finger over her mouth, giving the universal shushing motion requesting silence. She nodded dumbly in agreement, barley remembering the girl slipping from the room.

The whole process was executed so quietly, the nurses outside were none the wiser when another patient joined the traffic in the halls.

Buffy grimaced at the taupe walls and polished white floors of the endless hallways. Perhaps this was a maze, a special torture of hell devised just for her. She'd been conscious only a few hours and she'd already confirmed she hated hospitals an indescribable amount.

 _Clothes._

They were currently at the top of her list, one of her arms currently occupied with restraining her gown to avoid giving a random passerby a free show. Another flash of anger surfaced, realizing that at some point she'd been liberated from even her most intimate of coverings.

Subtly checking room after room for what she was after, she was once again reminded that nothing made sense here. Example after example of doctors caring for their patients was slowly eating away at her assumptions. She was fairly sure hell didn't have doctors, and if it did, the care they would provide would involve significantly more chains.

Everything from her first night was a confusing haze of pain and fear.

 _Hell._

As she glanced into another door, the group hung surrounding a white coat chipped away further at her reservations. Hesitantly accepting that this was perhaps not hell, or even a budget variety.

She wasn't entirely sure how she felt about that. Not that it mattered, she was here, wherever **here** was. And it seemed there was little she could do about it.

She'd been wandering the halls for what seemed like a lifetime. The rush of her latest fight was fading, every pain and ache slowly resurfaced bit by bit with each step she took. Her stomach finally joined the fray, rumbling in protest.

With an agitated shove she pushed open yet another door a bit more forcefully than was necessary, rewarded, finally, with an empty locker room and a busted door.

Minutes later she was clothed. Clad in a mixture of whatever she could find that fit and the standard issue scrubs she'd frequently seen. It left much to be desired, but all her bits were covered, and nothing was dragging on the floor. The baggy clothes also nicely hiding the various bandages she was sporting.

There was a triple beep over the intercom, followed by a nasally, garbled voice. She'd been too busy gripping her head in pain to actually listen. The horrid frequency of the speakers did nothing to help her headache. Her brain still throbbing, feeling ten times too large from repeated introductions to concrete. Even so, she could guess what was said as she nervously watched a security officer rush obliviously past her.

Her disguise passing muster, she felt rather smug as she spotted an exit sign. The painfully bright sunlight streamed through the glass door below confirming freedom.

Her smugness vanished as she found where her security officer friend had been in such a hurry to get to. She could hear the pitter of feet in the distance behind her, moving with purpose and presumably closing in. Options removed, she put on her best smile and continued forwards, outwardly appearing as natural and unconcerned as possible. Of course, the bruises still shading half her face did little to help her cause.

Mere feet from freedom Mr. Security's body went stiff in recognition. Apparently not one for peaceful resolutions, his hand began moving towards his side. Her body flared in protest as she accelerated, darting the last few steps. By the time she reached him the pain had faded, another rush of adrenaline letting her body react without constraint.

The muzzle of his gun attempted to track her head but, surprised and unprepared, he was simply too slow for the burst of agility. She heard the crunch of fingers and 'pop' of wrists as the weapon and hands were turned round with inhuman strength. The weapon now gripped by four hands, the barrel pointing directly at the man's brain, his eyes comically wide. A deeply disturbing part of her was curious, busy imagining graphic images of brain matter and hair coating the opposing wall. The voice in the back of her mind fueling her thoughts as it whispered encouragement, urging her to move the trigger the tiniest fraction of an inch.

"Stop, please!"

Meredith breathed a measured sigh of relief when the girl remained still, frozen. Afraid she'd been a split second from seeing something she was certain she'd never be able to unsee.

She'd taken a guess at where Jane Doe would go and gotten lucky. Hoping to sneak her out of the building before the path of destruction that was forming around her grew just a bit bigger. Judging from the puddle of yellow fluid spreading from one of the man's shoes, she'd already at least partly failed on that account.

Now she just prayed she'd not doomed herself. She was fairly certain the girl wouldn't hurt her. That she was was just reacting. The cops had threatened her, the guard had threatened her just now. Each one disabled but left alive. She'd left Dr. Bailey untouched earlier, and as far as Meredith knew, not harmed anyone else after. The only thing that didn't fit that pattern were the vampires from last night. Having specifically gone out of her way to not only prevent them from killing either herself of Dr. Bailey, but actively killing one and maiming another instead of running away. She was pretty sure the girl had no intentions of harming her. Just as long as she didn't present a threat, probably.

 _Exactly the confidence one wants when facing down a loaded gun._

"Please, don't kill him," Merideth pleaded as gently as she could.

There was a pause before Jane ripped the gun from his hands. The heavy slide of the pistol crashed into his skull an instant later. She cringed as his eyes rolled up, his body going limp and crashing onto the damp floor. That made for the third head trauma patient added to the carnage this afternoon.

She closed the gap between them, slowly, moving as steadily as possible. Watching as the girl grew more uneasy with each step, her own eyes darting between green orbs and the gun still clutched in hand but thankfully pointing elsewhere. Glancing down the hall, making sure they were alone, she finally committed to what she knew she had to do.

"I'll get you out of here," she announced, extending her hand towards the girl.

There was hesitation, the mind behind those green eyes warily studying her.

"You really gonna make a break for it without a car and wearing those shoes?" Meredith asked, trying to make light of the situation. Knowing how little those would likely slow her down. "Besides, you already stole my shirt." She gestured towards the women's mismatched clothes. "You might as well let me give you some pants that actually match."

There was a long pause as green eyes studied her intently as their intensity seemingly tried to pry answers from her very soul.

"You saved my life. Please, let me help you."

If she wasn't so terrified, she might have laughed when Jane Doe's stomach rumbled loudly. Scared as she was, a smile still crept across her lips. "Hungry?"

 **Sunnydale, California – St. Mary's Cemetery**

"Here, stop here!" Sam screamed in excitement.

Jack dutifully pulled his truck to the side of the road, "You sure?"

"Yes Sir, I'm s-"

"Ah-Ah-Ah," Jack cut her off "We're on vacation Carter, quit with the sirs." If he was going to spend his entire impromptu vacation making sure Carter stayed out of trouble he was at least going to pretend they weren't working.

"Yes sir, Col-, Jack." Sam struggled to find the right word.

"Very good. Now, you sure we're here?"

She nodded, not bothering to look away from the beeping dodad she was currently fascinated with.

"Cause we've been over this before."

"Jack," she paused awkwardly after the word. "The readings here are the strongest I've seen yet. And with the decay rate I've been able to piece together from the last few hits, this is definitely the place. These events have obviously been happening for a while, our instruments were just never sensitive enough to actually catch them before."

" 'I'm sure,' would have sufficed," Jack dryly replied.

"I told you, you didn't have to come."

"Sure I did." He cracked the door, relieved to be free from his truck once more as his knees popped in protest. It'd taken a solid day of driving to get here. They couldn't just fly of course, noooo, Carter had to bring her toys. Toys that no one felt willing to explain to airport security. Not to mention the paper trail neatly documenting them disobeying a direct order. One explicitly stating not to do exactly this.

There would be a very red faced General Hammond if they were caught. Somehow he just didn't see, 'We took a wrong turn,' working as an effective excuse.

"Lead the way, you got the thing making the noise."

He tried not to think about the magnificent view of her backside as he followed. The BDUs they practically lived in on base just didn't have that snug fit like the jeans wrapping beautifully around her toned thighs.

He shook his head, trying to clear the thoughts.

"Stop!"

His head shot up, embarrassed to note that even subconsciously his eyes were taking liberties they shouldn't.

"Stop! You're contaminating it!"

Across the graveyard, Dawn froze after one last swipe of her foot, finally finished after hours spent cleaning up the mess of her sister's former grave.

 **A/N:** I'm not as diligent keeping the fanfiction . net version of this story current. If your waiting for an update, I'd recommend visiting Twisting The Hellmouth - tthfanfic . org and checking there. It's the primary location where I post this story which is a work in progress and it's a huge pain to keep more than one site up to date if I make revisions. The TTH version also include graphics, and links to the Google docs for suggested edits.

 **A/N:** Apologies to any doctors out there. I'm sure I butchered a few things in this chapter. Please correct me on any too glaring to be ignored. I've seen Hollywood butcher plenty of science over the years, I understand your pain.

Reviews encouraged. If your going to be critical, at least make suggestions on how to fix whatever it is you don't like.


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